


License to Burn

by lilacs_with_lavender



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - James Bond Fusion, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dany has a split personality btw, Dany is a badass, Dark!Daenerys, Dark!Jon, F/F, F/M, Game of Thrones Fix-It, Gun Violence, Jon is kind of a jerk, Modern Westeros, Olenna is a bad ass, Porn With Plot, Secret Relationship, Shameless Smut, Smut, Some Fluff, Spies & Secret Agents, alibi use, but he’s a sad boi with issues, but what else is new, so we’ll allow it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2020-05-12 06:58:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19223986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacs_with_lavender/pseuds/lilacs_with_lavender
Summary: Daenerys Targaryen is a professional. Known only as the Mother of Dragons, she is the Khaleesi Combat Initiative’s top agent.But when her next target is the handsome enemy agent known only as the White Wolf, her life is turned upside down.





	1. Target Acquired

**Author's Note:**

> And she’s back! I know a lot of you are mad that I’m not posting chapter 7 of Business or Pleasure yet, but have patience dearies! What can I say my muse strikes at random... but I hope everyone enjoys this lil passion project!
> 
> Inspired by watching way too many Bond movies, listening to rave music, and the wonderful collection of fics by the lovely ladies of Discerning tarts. You guys inspire me to write what elementary fics I can manage! 
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
> 
> If you like this check out my other fics or give my blog a visit! On dumblr I’m @lilacs-with-lavender <3  
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ch. 1 - Target Acquired  
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The bass thumped it’s beat into her brain, the electronic beat pumping blood throughout her body. She appeared relaxed, poised even, but underneath the tight black dress her body was coiled like a spring. A match ready to set fire to the competition as soon as her mark walked through the doors.

Glancing down at the slick red phone that lay on the bar’s table top she reread Tyrion’s target description.  
‘Black of hair, grey eyes, short and broad.’

Rolling her eyes and taking another sip of the vodka tonic held loosely in one hand she frowned, sweeping the club’s dance floor for the umpteenth time. No one fit the description… plenty of short, black haired, broad guys but grey eyes? Daenerys had a knack for knowing the target on sight, so she trusted her instincts that he hadn’t arrived yet and waited.

The bartender came up again to ask for her number, and she flicked her violet eyes to his innocent face briefly, turning her gaze back to the club’s entrance and ignoring him. Soft boys like him could never handle her she thought quietly, in truth turning him down was saving the poor guy from heartbreak… at least that’s what Dany told herself whenever her conscious decided to show some empathy. 

Smoothing her hands over her dress she got up, ditching the vodka before the alcohol dulled her senses and leaning against the bar, gazing in mild disinterest at the mass of sweaty bodies on the dance floor. Tonight she had gone all out, the agency hadn’t a clue as to what this target’s preferences were so she had been free to choose for herself… which was always a treat.

Dany had gone with a red thigh high dress, nothing fancy but it had a plunging sweetheart neckline and was almost completely backless. It was gorgeous but in her opinion jewelry had always been her strong suit, the silver rings that adorned her fingers paired perfectly with the silver choker at her throat and the spiked dragon earring that curled around her left ear. Dragons were kind of her thing she admitted to herself, a winding red and black tattoo twisted up the center of her back… a fierce three headed thing that she had gotten at 17 and had never once regretted.

Deciding as usual that the ponytail was always more practical, she had tied it high, sweeping the silver locks into a messy but stylish updo. Practicality was integral to every piece of clothing she wore, KCI agents were required to wear thigh holsters at all times and her trusty taser hair pins would do perfectly in emergency situations. Of course nothing beat her infamous ‘dracarys’ pills, currently hidden in her chunky silver bracelet, an instant kill poison of her own invention that was currently the deadliest weapon in the agency’s arsenal. Slip one into anyone’s drink and boom the capsule set fire to their throat, insides melted, hair burned… she still had scars where she had tested a portion on herself. The fact that the small orange pill was her own creation had earned her the formidable codename ‘Mother of Dragons’ once she had left the academy, or MOD for short.

Just then the club doors opened and she snapped out of her revery to continue her silent vigil. 

She was fiddling with the strap of her worn black combat boot, the colored contacts in her eyes locked on to the glossy double doors when she spotted him. In a second, she was on high alert, her artificially blue eyes zeroed in on his features, already double and triple checking that this was her mark. Cursing Tyrion under her breath, she studied him, her often drunk partner in crime had forgotten to mention that the described black hair was curly and alluringly windswept. Actually her partner had forgotten to mention that he was attractive at all, her mind had already imagined him as another stuffed shirt in a long line of enemy agents waiting for her bullet in their skulls. But she cocked her head for a second, lost in her intense study of his facial features… those full kissable lips, the dark shadow of a beard scrubbed along his jaw, the silver scars lining his eyes, the black dress shirt that was stretched taut over a chest full of muscle… those grey eyes that swirled with the inner turmoil of a thousand stormclouds.  
“Fuck.”

She breathed the word through gritted teeth, it was always difficult when her rival agents were attractive, (which was most of the time) but this guy was her kind of hot. Before she had time to process how unnecessarily gorgeous he was she refocused, silently gathering her wits and reassuring herself, he probably had a shit personality anyways… all of them did. Flipping through her phone she scanned the digital profile once more, even though she had already memorized it.  
‘The White Wolf, DW agent, 24 years old, status; wanted dead or alive, agency opinion; at large and dangerous.’

Slipping the phone into an inner pocket lining her holster she set off, weaving through the crowd with the ease of a practiced infiltrator, keeping one eye on that curly head of raven hair.

KCI agents were sworn enemies of the DWIO or the Direwolf Intelligence Organization, the bastards were always getting in the way and serving as intelligence for some of the most corrupt people in Westeros. And while the DWIO was made up of both female and male agents, the KCI was exclusively female with few exceptions. 

Daenerys slipped between the writhing bodies like water through rocks, gliding and dodging kicking heels and flying elbows gracefully. When she reached the middle of the dance floor however she cursed, realizing he had gone over to the bar instead and she had just missed him. Fighting her way back to the bar Dany paused shielded from view by some peripheral dancers and inches from the polished counter where he sat, bourbon in hand. Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes, letting her heart rate slow and her mind clear as the music thumped with the beat of her pulse. Breathing out and reaching up to her spiked earring she flicked the ornate dragon earpiece to the on position, eyes opening as her pupils dilated and she was in combat mode.

“Target in sight, I’m going in.”  
Tyrion’s scratchy voice reached her quickly, but the service was spotty.

“Over. You’re clear MOD now go charm the pants off another self-righteous bastard.”

Smirking slightly she strode from the pit of shifting bodies a different person. Shoulders thrown back and breasts pushed out, her walk was seduction personified, her lips a sinful wine red. She heard Tyrion’s low warning in her ear,  
“Remember, we have little to no intel on him, so be cautious… I know that’s often difficult for our Mother Of Dragons.”

Her eyes narrowed a tad but her expression was iron masked in silk, not twitching as she took a seat at the bar and ordered a Shirley temple. The bartender gave her a confused look, she had scoffed at the stuff moments earlier calling it ‘the classic bimbo drink’ but she ignored him, every KCI agent knew the mantra ‘act the part, look the part, & you’ll get away with anything.’ The stupid drink arrived and she sipped it gingerly taking the wet cherry and twirling her tongue around it provocatively. 

She could feel his eyes on her then, roving and appreciative as she popped the cherry in her mouth… still not deigning him worthy of her gaze. He was intrigued that much she could tell, so Dany decided to intrigue him further. Leaving her drink unfinished she turned from the bar stool and bent to tighten the laces of her boots, her dress riding up to expose the crimson lace of her thong and giving him a good view of the second dragon that curled up high on her thigh. He was radiating desire already she could tell and she prayed that she could get this over with quickly. Sidling up to him the Mother Of Dragons leaned against the bar, poisonous bracelet adorned hand inching toward his bourbon as she teased him.  
“What’s a nice guy like you doing in a dump like this?”

He met her gaze with a slightly unimpressed expression, but Dany knew better, those dark eyes and tight pants said it all.  
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Her façade almost collapsed. Seven hells! That accent was passion personified, vocal lust, the most sensual sound she had ever heard. Gods she was going to murder Tyrion when she got back, he hadn’t told her this White Wolf was a northerner! It threw her off her game for a split second and before she knew it his drink was empty and her chance was gone… dammit. But she couldn’t just offer herself up on a plate, she had to bait him. 

Snorting at his terse reply, she gave a disinterested shrug pretending not to care and wandering to the edge of the dance floor. KCI agents were trained to be the perfect mix of raw sex appeal with the skill set of every black ops level assasin. KCI stood for the Khaleesi Combat Initiative, always cleaning up the world from behind the scenes… using the most beautiful women in the world to murder some of the most corrupt men in the world. Careful to always be quick, clean, and quite, giving their agents all the comfort and privacy that many agencies didn’t offer. As a result the Direwolves, the Crowned Men, and the Golden Lions had to deal with the occasional loss of a member. Usually because she had realized how infinitely better it was at KCI… many of Dany’s best friends had come from shit jobs where the men were given too much power.

With that thought in mind she swayed back and forth syncing herself with the music as she put on a show. She reminded herself that Daenerys didn’t dance like this, Dany did the funky chicken and called it a night… but MOD? She was a lusty dream on the dance floor, swaying hips and sensual arms running up and down her tight dress as she was buffeted by the envelopment of the crowd. Her ponytail whipped back and forth and she felt multiple guys come up to try and grab her attention… quite literally. She had to pretend to entertain the thought of other men, tolerating the grinding and grabbing as she continued to sway. But it was worth it when Tyrion’s voice was in her ear,  
“Nice work, you’ve got a pretty envious wolf coming up on your six o’clock.”

The hint of a smile touched her red lips as she undulated against the nearest man, her combat boots thumping the floor as she felt his steps closing in. Cocking her head, she listened with the ears of a hound… he had to be about two hundred, two hundred ten pounds she decided. The jerk grinding against her started getting handsy, a lewd hand running up to palm her breasts. Dany turned grabbing his hand and twisting, hard. Blocking his flailing form from the handsome target making his way towards her she watched as the idiot clutched his hand in pain. The loud music muffled his scream but she knew he was overreacting, she had exerted just enough pressure to sprain his wrist not break it. 

Then she felt rough hands on her hips, steering her away from the knot of men that had surrounded her. Daenerys bristled, he dare presume that-  
“MOD! Stop.”

Dany froze, Tyrion’s voice shaking her back into her role and restraining her from putting a bullet in the target to get it over with. Spluttering under her breath she forced herself to allow the DW bastard to guide her towards a less crowded section of the pit. Once he got her there she shook his hands off and stepped back, facing him in a whirl of silver hair. But then before she could say something indignant, the sight of him visually slapped her, demanding attention and giving her pause.

His dark damp curls were being pushed back by a large hand in a show of nervousness that she hadn’t expected, the top two buttons of his dress shirt were undone and she suppressed the strange urge to bite the pale square of skin that the starched fabric revealed. His grey eyes met hers, and she realized they were both the only ones standing completely still in the middle of the dance floor. Dany was fed up with the games.  
“I’d like to know.”

He frowned.  
“What?”

She tossed her ponytail, staring at her nails instead of him.  
“You asked me if I’d like to know what a nice guy like you was doing in a dump like this, and I would.”

He chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that sent tingles shooting throughout her nervous system and down her spine.  
“I never said I’d tell you.”

A bloom of admiration flowered in the assassin's chest, he wasn’t as big of an airhead as she’d originally thought that much was clear… but before she could be suspicious of that fact his hands found her hips again and her mind went blank.

A new song had started up, slower and more sensual, blurring her brain with it’s techno beat.

He spun her around, both hands moving her hips into him as they swayed, his touch burned her and his breath was hot in her ear. She hissed at the closeness gritting her teeth against her growing arousal.  
“What are you doing?”

“Shh I like this song.”  
His accent was low and husky in her ear sending jolts of electricity down her spine as she felt him press against her. Closing her eyes she reached a hand behind her, burying it in those soft curls and rocking against him to the thumping of the music. KCI agents always kept control of the situation, seduction being their specialty… Dany was no exception, she had everything under control… right? Dany registered that he was grinding himself into her but she didn’t pull away, didn’t play hard to get, she didn’t even freeze. 

Instead she pushed into him, the music thumping around them and the alcohol fueling her as she arched against the stranger… the rival agent, the target… fuck! 

She was distracted and she had to bring him down, if she had to use her own arousal against him then so be it. Suppressing a shudder when she felt a promising weight against the cleft of her ass she turned to face him, taking one look at his dilated pupils and knowing he was ripe for the taking. They were swaying very close now, bodies precariously wrapped in a lovers embrace as they rocked back and forth. Daenerys heard his breathing speed up and knew it was now or never. His eyes widened in surprise as she brought her lips to his, and for a split second she thought none of it had worked. The cherry red lipstick, the tight dress, the high ponytail… maybe she was just stupid Dany playing dress-up.

But then he responded and she almost cried at how good his mouth felt against hers, her target was a wolf in truth… devouring her mouth like she was in fact his prey. Dany moaned when his tongue plunged forward, his hand sliding down to grip her ass. Her mind was reeling, never had it felt this good, she had seduced many a gorgeous man but this… seven hells something about The White Wolf was intoxicatingly different. 

Suddenly she wasn’t in control anymore and she couldn’t care less. Tyrion was whispering fervently in her ear but she didn’t hear him, all she could hear was the techno music and her target’s heavy breathing as he peppered her neck with kisses. What had she done to deserve such passion from a stranger? He was guiding her now, pulling her towards one of the club’s soft velvet lounge chairs and Dany’s conscious was reeling. What the hells was she doing?! Seduce and destroy was the KCI motto… not let yourself be seduced by any oh-so-handsome enemy agent! 

Before she could stop it she was in his lap, his hands in her hair, and Dany’s moans were in his mouth… grinding down on the hardness she felt between his legs. When he grunted underneath her she smiled against his mouth, at least she still knew how to use her best weapon. Her arousal was getting out of hand then she knew, but she had to do her job. Arching against him, she thrust her breasts in his face, hopefully distracting him. Reaching into the pouch of her holster for a tracker beacon she undulated her hips against him, subtly manipulating his hard cock to detract attention from her wandering hands. 

Just as the Mother of Dragons’s superior hearing picked up the electronic ‘click’ of the device hooking into his belt his fingers found her soaked thong. Hissing she moved both hands into his hair, pulling on the dark locks as he slipped a finger inside of her and moaning at how fucking good it felt. But then smart and level headed Dany’s voice broke through MOD’s dangerous, indulgent thoughts. This was wrong… get in and get out… this is a job… you don’t even know his name. She stilled against him trying to lace together coherent words with his finger still inside of her.  
“You don’t even know who I am, I don’t even know your name.”

Moving to get off his lap, he removed the digit that was knuckle deep in her center and instead clutched her hip harshly, keeping her imprisoned in his lap and smearing her arousal on her dress. She turned to face him, puzzled at his reaction when all of a sudden that rough accent was in her ear… lower and more dangerous than before.  
“Oh but I do know who you are Mother of Dragons, the question is why are you squirming in my lap instead of taking me down? That is your mission is it not?”

She felt the barrel of his gun running up her thigh pausing and pressing into her sternum so that the threat was clear. Gods she was fucked.

Instantly her senses were on high alert, every nerve buzzing with something other than alcohol. Dany knew it was pointless to keep up the act so instead she went for his base male instincts… if this didn’t work she knew she was utterly screwed.

Delicately stroking his hair she ran red nails down the side of his face, caressing his ear, then his jaw, and then… ‘bzzt!’ Her hairpin shocked him in the most sensitive part of his neck his right hand shooting up to grab the offending object in reflex but dropping the gun in the process. Ducking his left hook to the stomach she leapt to the ground kicking his firearm away with her boots, taking one last look at him standing behind her, heaving and snarling like… like… well a wolf. And then she was gone, running, running, running, out the double doors and into the graffiti covered alleyway, sprinting to the black Lamborghini two streets over and pulling out her gun in the process. 

The sleek black weapon fit into her pale hands like a missing puzzle piece, ammo loaded and her trigger finger itching as she reached the sports car. Dany didn’t waste a second, her petite form cramming into the car and slamming the winged door shut in a rush, Tyrion had already started the engine thank the gods but her earpiece had been silent. As she set the gun down on the dash however, a motorcycle engine revved in the distance. Her brow furrowed in annoyance, it was so typical of DW agents to use motorcycles… but then she heard a wheel screech and knew it would be hell if this guy caught her.

So the Mother Of Dragons floored it, blood racing as she sped down the grimy streets of town and took the complicated route back to HQ. Her cloaking device was working, that much her dash screen told her… but he was in pursuit that much was obvious. Realistically though? The White Wolf didn’t stand a chance. Daenerys was often told that she was born to drive, when she was little and on the run she would win drag races for the prize money, beating teenage boys and grown men like it was nothing. This particular car was her favorite, the sleek Lamborghini having been a gift to herself out of a generous bonus from KCI last Christmas. She dubbed the gorgeous thing Drogon in honor of the barbarian she had been sold off to as a girl. A man that had come to love and protect her in a way that none had before. 

The Mother of Dragons needed more than one dragon however, and she had taken it upon herself to use the high-paid assassin salary to buy herself a hoard, the only lavish indulgence she allowed herself.

She had a soft spot for the porsche GT3, with its gold rims and white paint job it was the most feminine car she owned with a fierce amount of horsepower behind it… Dany had dubbed it Viserion in memoriam of the brother that sold her off. To remind her that even such evil souls as him had once been good and kind. The final beast was, in her opinion, the perfect mix of Drogon’s muscle and Viserion’s class. The dark green Ferrari 599 was a classic, retro sports car that Dany had given an upgrade, dubbing the gorgeous machine Rhaegal on sight, after the brother she had never gotten a chance to meet.

At the thought of her dragons waiting for her back at HQ for their nightly wax and wash she pursed her lips, how dare this guy keep her from her children? Urging Drogon onward with her boot on the gas pedal, the roar of the exhaust was palpable even from the inside of the monstrous car.

 

The slick Harley-Davidson had been a constant presence in her rear view mirror for at least ten minutes now and she couldn’t shake him… so instead… she had to play dirty. Pulling to a screeching stop at the next red light she waited until he skidded to a stop next to her, the visor of his black helmet flipped up and the collars of a black leather jacket turned up against the wind.

Dany rolled down her window and blew him a kiss, winking at his eye roll and enjoying the slight amusement that graced his features. But it was gone as soon as it had come replaced with a large double barrel shotgun that had blended in with the bike until now, the White Wolf was clicking off the safety violently and aiming at her forehead before she could so much as roll up her window. 

Their eyes met, a furious battle of emotion raging between the two spies, Dany slipped a hand to the gun on her dash, not taking her eyes off him as his tongue darted out to lick those full lips. He didn’t shoot… he just… stared at her, seemingly as lost as she was, but her instincts kicked in on time. She met the loaded shotgun with her own handgun in a blur of movement, red nails itching to pull the trigger but refusing to cooperate. Their heavy breathing was all she could hear... his grey eyes all she could see… what was wrong with her? MOD’s voice floated through Dany’s soft conscious mutinously,  
‘finish the mission, get your target, kill him, kill him, kill him.’  
But Daenerys couldn’t pull the trigger.

‘Bang!’  
She gasped thinking he had actually shot her, but strangely enough she felt unscathed… it hadn’t been him. There was a blinding screech of tires that weren’t hers and then he was falling off the bike and onto the pavement, a grunt of pain as he clutched his side. There was a frantic knock on her window and she looked up to see her best friend’s panicked face, brown hair sticking to her forward as she motioned for Dany to follow her. Missandei has saved her, the fellow female agent she called her best friend had come in the nick of time. But instead of relief she felt worry seeping in as she fought the urge to go to him, help him. But then she nodded to her friend and waited for her to get back in her car, the pair of them speeding off into the night before this mission could spiral further out of control.

Driving usually helped ease her nerves and sooth her conscious… but tonight all The Mother of Dragons could think was why hadn’t she done it? Why couldn’t she pull the trigger? And if she couldn’t then why hadn’t he? Was he even alive?

But most of all, how the fuck had he known who she was?


	2. The Trapped Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the White Wolf, conflicted and entrapped in the web of spies that is the DireWolf Intelligence Organization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves! Hope everyone enjoys this chapter, it’s pretty intense and can get a little dry but please stick with it! 
> 
> The Jon and Dany sexiness really kicks into high gear next chapter (I’m so excited).
> 
> Let me know your thoughts on this chap below! And feel free to ask all the questions you want. Also shout out to my girl Ava for being the best cheerleader ever, love ya!
> 
> Find me on dumblr for chapter updates! —> @lilacs-with-lavender

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Jon had been shot before, but this time had been different. One minute a woman forged from the very fabric of his best dreams and worst nightmares had been pointing a gun at him and the next he was on the pavement, a searing pain in his side as he felt hot blood pool underneath him. It hadn’t been her, that much at least gave him an ounce of comfort, she had been just as surprised as he had been to see the red stain soaking through his dress shirt. In a better world the fear in her eyes would’ve been real, not dreamt up by his drunken imagination.

He had clicked the panic button underneath his motorcycle’s dash long before their face off under the red glow of the stop light. That didn’t mean a DW agent would get there in time to save him though, if the gods were kind they would let him die right here. With the image of how the Mother of Dragons’s red dress had looked bunched up around her thighs, and how she had moaned in his ear. At least that would help ease his passing…

But no it seemed there were no gods on hand to answer his pleas, not a big surprise really. He heard his sister’s motorcycle before he saw it, the Harley’s roar familiar and exactly the same as his own motorcycle. When Arya’s worried face appeared above him however he almost smiled, or would have if not for the excruciating pain in his abdomen. His little sister was already cradling his head in her lap, short brown hair tucked behind both ears as she pressed a kiss to his brow.  
“It’s alright. It’s ok. Health team’s on the way, won’t be long. It’s alright. It’s alright. It’s alright.”

Jon knew his sister’s comforting words were more for her own peace of mind than his, but he allowed it, squeezing her hand weakly in reassurance that he was fine. He was always fine… eventually.

He winced, the screech of tires piercing his ears as the familiar DWIO med van pulled up to their position. Then his sister’s voice again,  
“See Mel’s here, she’ll work her magic again. You’ll be fine in an hour just wait… just wait…”

The pain was blinding, cruel hands jerking him onto the stretcher before he could gasp at the eye watering pain. Of course that’s all the agency was ever concerned about so it shouldn’t have been a surprise, secrecy and speed, that’s all it ever was to them. He snarled when the cadets strapped him in, rolling him to the van, not caring that every bump in the pavement felt like a dagger in his side. But Jon didn’t cry out, they would’ve loved that, getting to see the agency’s top agent weak and in pain. He’d be damned if he gave them that satisfaction. 

When the doors finally slammed shut and the engine roared to life, fluorescent white light flooded the van’s trunk turned med bay and he squinted. There was his dangerous little sister in the corner, both hands flexing as she withheld a torrent of rage at the sight of his bullet wound in better lighting. Arya Stark was DW’s invisible assassin, first choice for any and all confidential elimination missions. Jon had long ago accepted that protecting his little sister from harm was useless in that respect, she could handle herself completely, but he still worried. And by the way she gnashed her teeth at the sight of his blood, he guessed she still worried too. 

Then a familiar pale face popped into view, craning over him with a serene smile. Melisandre’s hair was a deep almost unnatural blood red that puzzled Jon, the fat shining ruby that always hung at her throat puzzled him more.  
“Hello handsome, back in my care so soon?”

He managed to groan a reply.  
“Hey Mel.”

Her sympathetic smile was covered with waves of red hair as she brushed the ruby at her throat, turning to a tray of instruments behind her and straightening the collars of her crisp white jumpsuit. He could just make out the DW insignia, a snarling direwolf, next to a Red Cross emblazoned on the right breast of her uniform. He realized her milk white hands were holding something then, but he lost sight of them, she was moving toward his abdomen he realized slowly and then… pain. Flashing, white hot, pain. No matter how many times he experienced the sensation of Melisandre’s ‘miracle cure’ the pain still had him crying out like a babe.

Arya of course was at his side in an instant, holding his hand and talking him through it. He knew the drugs would kick in soon, so he squeezed her small hand in his, holding on for dear life and listening to the far off voices.  
“It’s alright Jon, it’s ok. You’re so strong big brother, you’ve done this before, it’ll be alright…”

“He’s taking the reconstruction process well as usual, all that’ll be left in an hour or two is another scar on that six pack of his.”

“This isn’t funny Mel, this can’t keep happening, there’s only so many times this’ll work.”

“You don’t know that-“

“I do. Stannis needs to stop putting him into unnecessarily precarious situations.”

“Well then why didn’t he shoot that KCI bitch today?”

“I-I-I don’t know he didn’t-“

“Exactly. If Stannis finds out it was more than a momentary lapse in judgement then brother dear and the family fortune is as good as gone. And you can kiss your sister’s immunity goodbye Little Wolf.”

Their voices were fading but Jon wanted to speak, wanted to tell Mel to back off, to explain to Arya why he hadn’t taken the shot. But his tongue felt like lead and his grip on reality was slipping. All he could hear were Arya’s biting insults and then… and then…. warm, thick, comforting… darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
First there was nothing, he couldn’t remember anything. Where was he? What was his name? 

And then a bright light was shone into his eyes and he was blinking and squinting awake. A throaty voice was demanding he answer some questions… he wrinkled his nose, he didn’t like being ordered around. But then someone shook him by the shoulders and he coughed, inhaling deep lungfulls of chemically sterile air.

The light was back, but this time accompanied by a pair of red eyes. He gave an involuntary shiver, but his vision cleared and the body of a ethereal woman with flowing red hair materialized. He glanced around the room, his conscious immediately starting to take note of how many exits there were and how many sharp medical tools could be used as potential weapons. He shook his head, why would he need weapons? 

The woman’s voice was louder now, his ears finally filtering in sound as she repeated the question.  
“Tell me your name.”

He didn’t have time to think of his response, it was already on his tongue, mechanic and unnaturally fast.  
“Jon Snow.”

Her voice was devoid of emotion as she continued.  
“Codename?”

“The White Wolf.”

“Agent security number?”

His training was coming back to him now, tendrils of strange disjointed memories returning in fragments.  
“284901.”

“Where are you right now Agent 01?”

Those red eyes reminded him of something… a huge white ball of fur… his dog...Ghost.  
“The Med Bay, DW Headquarters.”

“Any living relations?”

Memories of a snowy townhouse house in the country, it had always been cold. A boy with auburn hair and an easy smile, a girl with hair like fire and sparkling blue eyes, another boy solemn and crippled, and a little one… brown hair, scuffed knees, and that toothy grin she always saved just for him. He took a shaky breath.  
“Four.”

“Do you know why you’re here?”

Why was he here? He had been shot… yes and he had been on his Harley... and there had been someone else… the electronic voice of his mission debrief came floating back to him. ‘They call her The Mother of Dragons she is the Khaleesi Combat Initiative’s top agent.’ He blinked and the memories hit him like a truck. She had silver hair, pale skin... and blue eyes. If he were a poet he would’ve compared her to the moon… but she had been wearing red. Red lips, red dress, red tattoo… she had tasted like salt, smoke, and vodka. She had been a beast in that Lamborghini… it had been a... black aventador. 

He thought he had seen fear in her eyes when the gun went off, her red lips had parted in surprise… red like his blood… red like Mel’s ruby.  
“Yes. I was shot.”

“By who?”

“I don’t know.”

Nodding the woman seemed satisfied, setting aside a clipboard he hadn’t realized she’d been holding and leaning over him to unstrap his arms, which he hadn’t realized were restrained. Then a paper cup full of pills was being shaken under his nose and thrust into his hands and he was up, walking and nauseous as she shoved him out the door.  
“Take those with lots of water in the next thirty minutes and get showered. The boss has a new debrief for you at 7:30 in the morning.”

He paused at the doorframe and blinked, pushing his thumbs into his temples and trying to get his bearings. Then her voice came from somewhere over his left shoulder again,  
“The Little Wolf is probably waiting for you in the hall, you might wanna sort that girl out.”

Something inside him bristled at the way her low voice said ‘that girl’ but he was too delirious to think up a threat to hurl at DW’s resident witch. No one knew what kind of high caliber technology she used to make bullet wounds disappear within an hour, and if anyone asked they weren’t usually heard from again.  
Sometimes after a treatment his morals would wrestle with the topic, if it was so effective why not give it to the rest of Westeros and save millions of lives? But as with everything else in DWIO the more you pulled back the carpet the more shit was revealed… so best to just leave it be.

When he reached the barracks he stopped on level two, suddenly nauseous and unable to remember which room exactly was his. Jon started to sway in the middle of the sterile black hallway, bracing a hand against the glossy walls and breathing hard. 

‘Fuck… the pills… need water…’  
A part of him was thankful then that it was so late, no one would gawk at him when he inevitably passed out. His train of panicked delirium was silenced however when a small hand pried his clammy ones from the cup of pills at his side, tilting his head back and gripping his chin, opening his mouth and tipping cool, clean water down his throat. Then the familiar pair of hands popped the pills into his mouth, one by one, followed by a steady stream of water as he choked them down, bracing his forehead against the wall once the cup was empty and breathing deep.  
“...t-t-thanks.”

His little sister popped into view then, his strong caring little wolf wrapping his arm around her shoulders, taking his weight despite her size and hobbling him to his room. Jon had forgotten their rooms were next door to each other. Thankfully she had his keys, managing to push them through the doorway and set him on the bed without too much trouble. 

Jon sat stone still, mind reeling from the temporary amnesia and the dizziness that was creeping up on him, a side effect of the pills no doubt. He watched Arya lock his door, turning back to tidy his room, still in her motorcycle jacket with her black handkerchief around her neck and her hair still firmly tucked behind both ears. He knew her twelve daggers were hidden throughout the pockets and seams of her clothing, but Needle was always at her hip, the black Walther PPK had been her first gun, a gift he himself had given her when she joined the agency against their parent’s wishes. His nineteen year old little sister was a stone cold Assassin but in moments like this she was his personal angel.  
“You know that KCI woman put a tracker on your belt, idiot.”

Jon winced, when has she done that? Had it been when his tongue was in her mouth or after?

“It’s fine I disposed of it before we got to headquarters so no harm done, but you’re usual careful about that stuff Jon… what happened tonight?”

He retreated into himself, clutching his head in over exaggerated pain as he told her.  
“Can I tell you tomorrow? Mel’s meds are killing me right now.”

Her grey eyes narrowed in suspicion, she and him shared the same eye color while Sansa and Robb had inherited the blue.  
“Fine, but I won’t forget to ask you know.”

He sighed, giving her a tight smile that she, to his relief, returned.  
“I know.”

Arya helped him out of his clothes slowly, getting him in the four-poster fur covered bed quite comfortably despite his lingering nausea. When that was done he watched her hang up the motorcycle jacket and strip off the worn leather gloves Robb had given her for Christmas last year, eventually slipping off her boots and sitting next to him on top of the covers, feet crossed as she switched on the tv.

He sighed in content when she laid some of the warmer furs on top of him, smiling up at her wider than he had in a while as he spoke.  
“You know I love when you’re this nice to me.” 

Arya hummed, and he frowned noticing a small bruise on her cheek that had escaped his notice earlier. Before he could interrogate her about it however she patted his head softly, letting out a long suffering sigh that he knew all too well.  
“Don’t get used to it big brother it’s not like you get shot every day. Get some rest, Stannis is gonna wanna debrief you for the next mission in an hour or so.”

Jon groaned at the thought rolling over and burying his face in the feather pillows, letting his thoughts drift to a lovely pair of red lips and snarling red dragon tattoos as he accepted sleep's sweet embrace with open arms.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
His memory came back to him quicker the second time around as he surveyed his surroundings, going over the basics before he got up. The tastefully furnished room was his own, in the barracks, the floor littered with laundry and the small tv coated in dust. The dim clock above the entrance to the kitchenette read 7:23 am.

Shifting on his side, he rolled out of the comfort of his bed, hissing as his head spun. It was bloody ridiculous, that their agency’s high tech medical equipment could heal bullet wounds in mere hours but they couldn’t be bothered with nasty hangovers. 

Arya had gone… he dimly recalled her switching off the tv beforehand leaning over to scribble something, and sure enough there was a note on his side table explaining where she’d gone. Forcing a calloused hand through his bed head Jon leaned forward, squinting at the note in the pale morning light.

‘Had to run, no target today, just a parts supply run for Bran. Nothing serious. Give Stannis hell for me if he so much as mentions Sansa, him and Mel are walking a fine line. Be safe today, text me when you get the debrief and call if you’re going out of the country. Love you, Arya.’

Jon smirked, their boss was not one that you could ‘give hell’ but as usual he admired her courage. Padding to the bathroom The White Wolf splashed his face with cold water, trying to wake up his dull senses and knocking back more pain relief pills before relieving himself. Just as he was about to leave the tiny porcelain room however, he caught the new scar’s reflection in the mirror. 

Turning to the side Jon ran a finger over the pink puckered skin, tracing his tenth bullet wound and staring at the rest of his scarred chest in disgust. Then he shook his head and strode to the closet, he had never cared about his looks before why did they matter now?  
“They don’t matter now, idiot.”

Great. Now he was talking to himself… the whole trained killer lifestyle was catching up with his mental health. Throwing on the standard issue DW sweats and tee he grabbed his keys, shoving his white Glock 19 into the waistband of his jeans and setting off. 

As usual the hallways were quiet, agents coming and going in silence, all frantically trying to make their morning debriefings on time no doubt. Jon remembered those days fondly, always sprinting to Agent Mormont’s debrief hall with Sam and Grenn. Ed was always on time though…  
He shook his messy curls in refusal, not time to head down that path of grief and despair.

While everyone stopped and whispered at the sight of him Jon strode past them with purpose, straight to the door at the very end of floor two’s main hallway, the door that led to Stannis Baratheon’s office. 

Agent 01 knew the routine well, rapping his knuckles against the sleek metal twice and standing at attention before the door slid open to admit him.  
“You’re late Snow.”

Stepping into the dark smoke filled office Jon heard the door slide close with a mechanical click behind him, suppressing confusion at the words ‘you’re late’. Then a small part of him woke up, remembering he should’ve been here by 7:30… fucking temporary amnesia.  
“Sorry sir.”

The head of DWIO regarded him with eyes of iron but waved away the apology with the same hand that held a smoldering cigarette between two fingers. Jon knew the man had developed a serious nicotine addiction after he had lost his wife and daughter in that car accident… but the smoke was so thick his eyes watered as he held the man’s harsh gaze.  
“I understand you were unsuccessful in eliminating your target yesterday is that correct?”

Jon swallowed…she had felt like fire in his hands on that dance floor.  
“That is correct sir.”

When he didn’t elaborate Stannis raised a bushy eyebrow.  
“And is there a reason why my top agent couldn’t kill the ‘Mother of Dragons’?”

Something inside of Jon snarled at the way his boss sneered at her codename.  
“I was taken unawares sir, she had backup.”

The man leaned back in the black leather desk chair, propping his combat boots on the table and regarding Jon with an air of suspicion. Finally heaving a sigh he interrupted the tense silence.  
“Well I suppose it’s good you didn’t kill the bitch, turns out she and the KCI are our way in.”

Jon clenched his fists mechanically at ‘bitch’.  
“I’m afraid I don’t follow sir.”

Stannis snubbed out the cigarette in a nearby, already full, ash tray. Scratching his salt and pepper beard and reaching for a sheaf of paper Jon’s boss gestured for him to have a seat. Then he opened the packet of papers and instead of leaving the reading to the electronic debrief device that lay discarded on his desk, for some reason he began to brief Jon himself, clearing his throat and thumbing through the officially labeled and stamped papers inside.  
“Recent intel has lead us to believe that Tywin Lannister, multi-millionaire owner of Lannister real-estate, is the head of The Golden Lions.”

At that Jon raised his eyebrows, The Golden Lions were one of three undercover intelligence agencies that the DW had the pleasure of calling enemies. Mostly due to the fact that they were first rate scum, trained to cheat, lie, kill, and then paid to do so for the most corrupt people in the world. Unfortunately Jon had had the pleasure of working with them on a few instances… ever since Stannis had taken over for Ned things had gone downhill. If he was honest with himself the only reason Jon stayed was out of respect for his father’s memory, not to mention Stannis threatened Sansa every time he or Arya so much as mentioned leaving.  
“Olenna Tyrell, the head of KCI, reached out to me asking if I would send in one of my male agents to help hers take down the whole family.”

Jon snorted, she obviously didn’t know Stannis very well.  
“And how do they plan on taking down the whole family sir?”

Stannis shook his head, eyes still on the sheaf of paper.  
“She failed to mention how of course but assured me that it was all to ‘rid the world of the evil that is the Lannister family’ all because of some scrap over them dipping their hands into the slave trade recently… it’s all bullshit if you ask me.”

Jon grit his teeth. Any reasonable man with a clear conscious would see the sense in that motive but no, not Stannis Baratheon.  
“And where do I come in sir?”

Stannis dropped the papers on his desk, sliding the packet over to Jon and giving him a serious glower.  
“That’s where you come in.”

He glanced down at the paper his boss had passed over the dark wood of the desk, and his stomach did a backflip. It was the intel sheet he had received last night, the one with all known information about KCI’s top agent; ‘The Mother of Dragons’... shit.  
“They offered their top agent so I gave them mine. You two will be infiltrating Tywin’s eldest daughter’s birthday bash at the Lannister Estate in Monaco.”

Jon’s head was spinning, maybe it was the meds, maybe it was the mission, at this point the brief couldn’t possibly get any worse. Before he could speak however, Stannis plowed on. And oh how wrong he had been.  
“Of course, you’ll attend the event under the guise of a newly married couple. You will be Mr. Damon Sand son of a wealthy oil tycoon and your lovely wife, who has killed over sixty-two targets in the field by the way, will be Mrs. Tyene Sand.”

He grabbed the desk to steady himself, head full of dark fantasies at the words ‘newly married couple’.  
“But remember Snow, Olenna doesn’t know that your job is to protect Tywin and his family at all costs. The Mother of Dragons thinks your there for the same reason she is, to eliminate them with immediate effect. Your real job is to thwart her attempts to eliminate them by all means possible.”

Jon nearly choked.  
“My job is to what?”

His boss didn’t look up from his fresh cigarette, pulling out a lighter from his desk drawer and responding flatly.  
“To protect the Lannister family.”

“To protect the family that trades in slaves?”

“Yes. Tywin’s paying a lot of money for our best agent so you better do it. Do I have your word that you’ll kill the dragon bitch if necessary?”  
Jon saw red, his nails were digging crescent moons into his palms. This son of a bitch. 

Stannis took Agent 01’s silence for agreement, and continued.  
“I don’t care how you do it to be honest, make it look like an accident if you want, just… well it’ll probably be best if you don’t let her survive the mission.”

His mind exploded with images of her, that snarling tattoo on her thigh, those teasing blue eyes, that mouth…  
“Agent 01 do I have your word?”

Every moral fiber in Jon’s body tensed, you don’t have my word you sick bastard, no no no. But… his sister’s safety came before the life of an enemy agent he barely knew. As for the Lannister’s… weren’t they the ones that Robb had been sure were behind father’s untimely death? He couldn’t think straight. He couldn’t breath. But his boss’s cold eyes were pinning him to his chair, and the cursed words left his lips before he could stop them.  
“Yes sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Few! That was a doozy no? It was to write so I hope everyone enjoyed!
> 
> Also just FYI pets are not allowed in DW agent barracks so Ghost stays with Sansa in her apartment.
> 
> Have any questions? Leave them below! If you’re polite I always respond. Don’t forget to give this chapter a little love if you enjoyed! Nothing quickens the posting of the next chapter like a kind word or two!
> 
> Cheers,  
> ~ K <3


	3. Close Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany and Jon meet again as partners in an uneasy alliance, and when they arrive in Monte-Carlo it becomes clear that their fake marriage won’t be an easy one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers I’ve returned to this fic! It’s an absolute favorite of mine and I won’t keep you as waiting as long for the next chap... I hope ;)
> 
> And all my business or pleasure peeps have absolutely nothing to worry about, I’ve just been having a bit of a writer’s block with that one and I don’t have a beta for that fic so it’s tough... but I promise that’s the next update!
> 
> Also, while you’re here, click my tag and check out my other fics! This one’s dedicated to the gorgeous ray of sunshine that is Ava :3
> 
> I’m @lilacs-with-lavender on dumblr too if you ever wanna chat <3
> 
> Cheers loves and thanks for reading,  
> ~ K

 

 

Ch. 3 - Close Your Eyes 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The plane was theirs of course, Olenna wouldn’t have let any of her girls fly in a DW aircraft, she only trusted Stannis as far as she could throw him. But for some reason the old bat had decided that DWIO would be the perfect agency to ally themselves with against the Lannisters, something Dany disagreed with. Strongly. 

 

She had begged her boss to let her take Missy or Margaery, they could easily pass for a couple! It was the twenty-first century for god's sake! Lesbian couples in high class society were not unheard of! And though she protested and whined The Queen of Thorns wasn’t hearing it. 

 

Daenerys groaned aloud swirling her rosé irritably, the old woman was old fashioned and had insisted that someone of equal skill went with her. Unfortunately she had to admit she saw the sense in that, but it didn’t stop her from wishing she had just shot the fucking White Wolf when she had gotten the chance. 

 

Although… she had to admit, sitting in the KCI’s private jet and waiting for him to show up… she wouldn’t mind seeing that pretty face again. But when her lovely view out the window beside her was interrupted by a black Harley Davidson pulling up, screeching loudly as she reminded herself firmly that that was all he was, a pretty face.

 

She sat comfortably ensconced in the plush leather seat, slumped with her chin resting on her chest and accepting small sips of rosé from the elegant crystalline glass in her hands. As soon as she heard the clank of shoes on the metal staircase outside however, she straightened, instantly becoming the impeccable MOD once more. 

 

When he entered she was perched on the edge of her seat, back ruler straight and legs crossed as the navy blue wrap dress rode up to expose a little more thigh then she usually would have. Missy had braided her hair so that it was laid across one bare shoulder elegantly, though she had ditched her usual abundance of silver jewelry and at Olenna’s request, had not worn a stitch of makeup. Or so it looked, in reality it was there in full force, she couldn’t feel like MOD without it. Olenna’s words as to exactly why she shouldn’t powder her face came floating back and though inspiring she had ignored them.

‘Your new partner won’t be wearing makeup to meet his new wife, why should you?”

 

One usually couldn’t argue with that sensible logic, but MOD had.

 

Dany kept her eyes on the interesting view out the window, which at the moment showed nothing but black tarmac under a sky streaked with pink and orange. She barely had time to register the fact that out of all the empty seats on the plane this bastard had chosen the one directly across from her, before he was speaking in that accursed accent of his.

“I’m your new husband.”

 

She turned her artificially blue gaze on him, raking her eyes down his luscious hair, those delicious lips, finally ending at the perfect arse that now occupied his leather seat. She met his gaze and smirked, arching an eyebrow and biting her lip to keep from running a tongue over her lips.

“Clearly.”

 

He frowned, probably at the fact that she hadn’t hid her clear appraisal of him but Dany couldn’t bring herself to care… he had done as much and more at the club. 

“What’s your real name?”

 

He had blurted it out and by the look on his face he instantly regretted it. She took another sip of rosé and fixed him with a stern look.

“Why on earth would I tell you that?”

 

He pushed a hand through the dark mass of curls and she had to restrain herself from biting her lip at the action.

“Because if we’re going to pretend to be newlyweds there needs to be a modicum of trust and familiarity between us.”

 

Dany almost burst out laughing at his well worded but quite lame attempt at an explanation, he thought he would get her real name that easily? Adorable.

“Well then all you need to remember is to call me Tyene, or Mrs. Sand if you prefer.”

 

He shifted in his seat, obviously frustrated with her subtle refusal but Dany glowed, reveling in the first of many small victories she was already plotting to win against him. Her satisfied smile disappeared however when he threw a packet of paper on their shared table, opening it and thumbing through pages embossed with the snarling direwolf of his agency. When he slid a packet over to her she snatched it from the table, holding her mildly disinterested expression until her façade cracked in two when she surveyed the standard mission intel.

“We’re to share a b-bed?”

 

He glanced up, surprised at her change of tone and then regarding her with an infernal smirk. 

“Will that be a problem Mrs. Sand?”

 

All of MOD’s sultry confidence left her then and she flushed red, Dany’s anxiety returning in full force...she had fucked up at the club, how was she expected to keep her hands off of him in her sleep?! What if she embarrassed herself again? Gave the agency a bad name? She was top agent she couldn’t— 

 

a warm rough hand covered hers and she held her breath, his voice was low and… was that kindness she heard?

 

“I’ll take the floor if you like, I was only joking.”

 

She breathed out, meeting his grey eyes and instantly calming, the anxiousness seeping from her mind as he held her hand in his. Then she snatched it away and the moment shattered as she turned back to the debrief sheet.

 

 The plane sped over the ocean as Dany slid her eyes over the same spot on the page over and over. She realized dimly that her head was drooping and the papers had slipped from her hands and she was so tired. Dimly she acknowledged that he might kill her if she was to show vulnerability but KCI and DWIO had made a deal...right? He was focused on the mission papers across from her, why was he still reading? Hers had been shorter than his… but then she realized his dark hair was tied back and he was wearing glasses she hadn’t seen before… the sight was an arresting one and Daenerys was so...tired.

 

So she forgot to be the Mother Of Dragons for now, instead reclining the leather seat and snuggling into its cushions, slipping off her heels and tucking her legs underneath her as she felt sleep pull her under. 

 

A last look across the table revealed the White Wolf watching her, seemingly transfixed by the sight of her curled up in her chair, and then her lashes fluttered closed and the darkness claimed her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She felt a hand on her shoulder, nudging her gently and in less than two seconds she was up, handgun locked and the safety clicked off as she grabbed her attacker’s wrist with her other hand. She was breathing hard and it took MOD several seconds to realize her gun was pointed at the White Wolf’s forehead. 

 

The man had his hands raised in mock surrender but there was real surprise behind those grey eyes. Whether that was because of her reaction to his wake up call or the fact that her dress was slipping off her right shoulder she couldn’t tell. Even so she held him like that for a while, liking his vulnerability until he grabbed the nose of her gun and lowered it slowly, looking at her directly with those sad solemn eyes and murmuring softly.

“It’s time to go, we’re here.”

  
  


Dany huffed tossing her braid over one shoulder and reaching for her bags in the overhead compartment above her seat. She slipped on her heels and strode from the plane without another glance at him, stopping by the cockpit to thank the KCI pilot, Asha. She leaned in to the small space and shared a familiar smirk with her friend, Asha Greyjoy was the KCI’s everything gal. The badass brunette could captain a ship, fly a plane, and wield an axe with surprising skill. 

“Snow giving you a hard time back there D?”

 

Dany’s smile froze in confusion.

“Snow?”

 

Asha threw her a sardonic look but then, realizing her confusion was very much real she laughed long and hard. Stopping to wipe over dramatic tears from her eyes and gasping.

“Oh gods! Those DW bastards, the man’s last name is Snow Dany, they told me that soon as I got the plane in the air!”

 

Daenerys laughed tightly her ire towards the DWIO growing.

“Well thank you for telling me.”

 

Asha turned back to the controls, already losing interest in their conversation it seemed.

“No problem love, don’t let yourself get fucked.”

 

That particular farewell was common in KCI, developing after one too many beautiful agents ‘let’ some random enemy agent stick their prick where it shouldn’t go instead of finishing an assigned mission. 

“You neither.”

 

Snow... what the fuck kind of last name was that? Then again hers wasn’t exactly normal either.

 

The man himself stood at the bottom of the staircase the jet’s engines still running, as the warm Mediterranean air whipped his hair back and forth. He looked appetizing enough to eat from here she mused… oh the things Dany wanted to do to this man.

 

Just beyond the landing strip Viserion sat waiting, and Dany smiled at the sight of her child. She had polished all three of them before she had left, leaving a kiss on each hood before sending Vis to the agency garage to be shipped to Monaco. That had been her one condition should Olenna force her to work with a DW agent, and as usual she had gotten her way. 

 

Mr. Snow seemed to think her wide smile extremely strange, and her mad dash for the Porsche sitting at the other end of the tarmac even stranger. Dany could not care less, she slid her fingers over her son’s cream hood and tossed her bags in the trunk allowing the White Wolf to drop his in the small compartment as well. When he went around to the driver’s side however she trapped him against the door, pressing herself close with one hand on her son’s roof and enjoying how he stiffened underneath her.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

 

Her voice was a seductive purr in his ear, and he sounded hoarse when he responded.

“Driving.”

 

Daenerys ran a hand down his back, giving that perfect ass a squeeze before shoving him aside abruptly and throwing open Viserion’s door.

“I don’t think so Mr. Snow.” 

 

She relished his shudder at ‘Mr. Snow’ and smirked at the surprise on his face that followed it.

“How do you know my—”

 

Dany shut the door on him, hands grasping her car’s white leather steering wheel like an old friend. The Porsche’s spotless interior instantly put her at ease, that ruthless confidence her son’s instilled in her roaring to a peak. 

 

The White Wolf dropped into the passenger's seat beside her, a brooding expression settling over his face as he grumbled.

“This is extremely unfair, first you grab my ass and now you know my name.”

 

Daenerys rolled her eyes, what a big baby.

“Take a deep breath Mr. Snow, yesterday you had a finger in my cunt after knowing me for a total of five minutes. I’d say we’re pretty even.”

 

She checked her lip gloss in the sparkling rear view mirror withholding a grin when she saw how fiercely uncomfortable he was. He shifted those pouty lips back to her and Dany had to will away the urge to shove her tongue down his throat.

“Don’t get us killed, drive straight to the hotel.”

 

Dany laughed, bright and loud. As if she took orders from this prick. Just being at the wheel gave her confidence a boost, MOD’s voice in her ear urging her to disobey, annoy, and tease the crap out of this man who had so easily distracted her last time.

 

“Hold on to that perfect arse of yours Mr. Snow,”

she gave him a sideways glance, mimicking her cheeky wink from the previous night,

“And try not to get that big ego of yours all over my nice leather seats.”

 

With that Viserion’s engine roared to life, the sound of 650 horsepower bringing on a familiar adrenaline rush as she sped across the pavement, gold rim tires screeching as she hit sixty in less than ten seconds. 

 

This was where she really belonged, the feel of the well built machine rumbling with power underneath her as she pressed her shoe into the gas pedal. Lights flew by in a blur and she glanced at the map, taking sharp turns and relishing the sharp intake of breath beside her at each screech of Viserion’s wheels. 

 

When the dazzling Hôtel de Paris came into view Dany could not help but utter a small gasp too. The towering antique structure was beautiful, with a sweeping lawn and paved driveway that led right up to a red carpeted entrance. It was times like these when she could barely process the luck that she had in life, and it only fueled her dream. To retire with all the cash being a top agent earned, and use it to help those girls she had slept with on the street, help them all achieve this one day. The thought was grounding, shifting her awe of the hotel’s opulence back to a grim defiance in the face of such excessive wealth. 

 

By the time they pulled up to the carved arched entrance she was surprised Mr. Snow hadn’t spilled the contents of his stomach on her dashboard, though as she stepped from the Porsche’s cream doors she took satisfaction in his slightly paler than normal complexion. As her new partner came around the car to the entrance however he grabbed the keys dangling from her left hand, tossing them to the nearest uniformed valet before she could protest that she didn’t want anyone other then herself driving her child. When he grabbed her hand she resisted, looking back at Viserion with contact colored eyes full of worry. 

 

Her fake husband watched her dramatics with a twinge of amusement before pulling her through the golden revolving doors and into the entryway, Dany nearly stomped on his polished shoes when he wrapped a muscled arm around her waist, pulling her close and nuzzling his nose into her hair. To the outside eye they looked like the perfect newlywed couple in love… her all too real blush and his firm grip on her waist...he was good. And she hated it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time they had checked in Daenerys was one hundred and ten percent done with her new husband. He had cozied up with her throughout the whole process, consistently calling her darling and ignoring the hotel clerk’s fluttering eyelashes. She honestly couldn’t tell if he was spectacular at holding their cover or just enjoying the chance to get on her nerves.

 

As soon as they stepped into the elevator she shoved his arm off her waist and moved to the opposite side of the glass compartment, throwing him a poisonous glare that of course only made him more amused and eager to annoy her.

“Awww what’s the matter Mother of Dragons? Don’t think I didn’t notice how often you slid your hands over my chest in front of that hotel clerk.”

 

She huffed again ignoring him and reaching underneath her dress to flick on the tracker embedded in her thigh holster that Olenna had given her. He blinked however, all the teasing leaving his face as he watched the path her hand was taking incredulously.

“What the hell are you doing?” 

 

Rolling her eyes at just how thick DW agents were she responded with a little more venom then was warranted.

“Turning on my tracker genius.”

 

His expression turned dark as a typhoon and before Dany could blink the ornate elevator doors had slid open and he was gripping her wrist  _ hard. _

 

She hissed, fighting him until they stopped outside their assigned suite. Daenerys wrenched out of his grasp, her handgun pressing into his temple and her voice a dangerous snarl.

“What the fuck was that about?”

 

As usual his annoyingly perfect face had no answer he only pulled the key card from his pocket and opened the door, completely ignoring the gun to his head. He was so fucking frustrating Dany could barely control herself, as soon as the door closed behind them and he reached the middle of the lacquered suite she lost it. 

“Why the fuck won’t you answer me?! You think you’re so above me, Mr. Top DW Agent! I could kill you any time I wished in over one hundred different ways! Just you wait Snow I’ll-”

 

He was close, way too close, how did he get this close? Dany lost her train of thought. Distracted by the cologne he was wearing… his lips looked soft and full and-

 

“Get on top of the table.”

 

She blinked.

“Excuse me?!”

 

He nodded his head in the direction of the ornate coffee table to their left.

“You heard me.”

 

Daenerys didn’t know if it was curiosity or the heat that erupted between her legs when he commanded her but she complied, walking to the table and standing on top awkwardly.

 

Those eyes of his were dangerously dark, so much so she could’ve sworn they were black. When he came towards her then she was distinctly reminded of his tag name;  _ The White Wolf _ . He certainly resembled one as he came closer and suddenly Dany didn’t feel like the Mother of Dragons at all, she felt like…  _ prey. _

 

His warm hand was on her calf, smoothing up the exposed skin as she bit her lip. She could feel his scars and calluses on the smoothness of her knee now, slowly climbing up. She could barely breathe, let alone think as he reached her thigh.

 

_ Fuck that’s so good…  _

 

Gods she hadn’t felt a man’s touch in so long… not since- no she wouldn’t let her thoughts drift down that dark path. Not when his hand was drifting so close to her now soaked lace panties. His fingertips brushed the inside of her thigh and she quivered biting down on her lip to stop her moan of delight. He was so close so teasingly close and- ugh! 

 

He changed course last minute flicking the small switch attached to the tracker in her lacy thigh holster and snapping the elastic back harder than was necessary. Her small gasp slipped out before she could stop it, and when she finally looked down at him he was smirking, darkened eyes looking up at her with some unrecognizable emotion. She breathed out her next words carefully trying to keep her voice steady.

 

“What did you just do?”

She knew exactly what he had done but Dany wanted to hear The White Wolf say it aloud.

 

“I turned you on.”

 

_ You're damn right you did… bastard. _

 

She stepped down from the table and walked briskly, grabbing her luggage from the valet cart and dragging it into the massive bedroom. Before he could enter however, she flung open the suitcase, grabbed a pair of pajamas, her toiletry bag, and fled to the sparkling bathroom. 

 

Once the door slammed shut she locked it and took a deep breath, her heels echoing on the embossed tiles as she ripped off her dress. Eager to rid herself of everything he had touched, trying to chase the image of those dark eyes from her mind’s eye to no avail. Finally she stopped before the paneled mirror, smudged makeup and old scars wrapped in a lacy bra and panty set. 

 

She hated the sight of them. That was MOD not Dany.

 

Clawing at the bra and panties she tugged both off slipping into the soft well worn satin set and tugging on her tank top and soft pink pajama bottoms. When she had untangled her braid and combed through the silver waves she grabbed a towel, soaking it in warm water and hating the reflection that stared back at her with a passion.

Dragging the towel across her face she scrubbed at the stuff, wiping away the dirt and mascara. Even though Olenna had asked her to go light to no makeup, she had been too insecure, MOD was nothing without her dark eyeliner and pouty lips! 

 

But once she squeezed out the colored contacts and pressed the towel to her face one last time she finally felt at ease. The reflection that peered back at her this time was her favorite, the real Dany who had dark brows and extremely light freckles. The biggest difference were her eyes, beautiful lavender eyes that had to be hidden every time she went anywhere. They were too rare Olenna had explained to a fifteen year old Daenerys, the world could never know who she was if she was to become a part of the KCI. 

 

She blinked several times to chase the soreness from her eyes, her lashes dripping with water as she wiped her face with a fresh fluffy towel. Finally staring at her clean skin framed by the long waves of silver hair that Missandei loved to braid.

 

Once done she gathered MOD’s shed clothes, picking up the heels and taking a calming breath before walking back out of the bathroom. He had his back to her, occupied with tugging a white t-shirt over a well muscled back. Dany averted her eyes shoving the clothes back into her suitcase and throwing the heels in the corner of the room. He turned back around and zipped his suitcase oblivious to just how tight his t-shirt was… it took all of her willpower to tear her eyes away from him.

 

He caught her turning away but she faced the gilded wall, climbing into the bed and tugging the satin sheets over herself protectively while he hesitated by the bed. She closed her eyes, still not letting him see their true pigmentation and speaking without opening them.

 

“Get in. I won’t make you sleep on the floor Snow.”

Despite her confident words however she tensed when he sank into the bed… thank the gods it was as far away from her as possible.

 

He shifted around, apparently finding it hard to get comfortable and she bristled. Every time she got close to drifting off he would shift again, tugging at the covers or rolling onto his side. Finally her sleep deprived mind couldn’t handle it.

 

She sat up facing him in a whirl of hair with fury.

“What the matter with you?! Let me sleep god damn it!”

 

She was breathing hard but his expression wasn't one of sardonic amusement like she had expected, instead it was complete and unrestrained shock.

 

“Y-Your eyes t-they’re they’re  _ purple _ .”

 

_ Shit _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight how was that guys? Let me know with an abundance of comments or kudos please, y’all rock! 
> 
> Also it’s poll time! I wanna give the readers what they want so respond in the comments to the following poll!
> 
> Who should find out the others real name first? Jon? Or Dany?
> 
> Kisses!  
> ~ K


	4. Kisses & Poisoned Martinis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The soldier’s morals are tested and the assassin is kept in the dark, it won’t be long before one of them snaps...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again my loves, I’m back I’m back!
> 
> I know it’s been a hell of a long time since I updated so here’s an extra long chap for ya <3
> 
> Hope you enjoy the thickening plot and the heightened tension in this one ;) 
> 
> And don’t forget to go check out my other modern au Business or Pleasure which will also be getting an update hopefully soon! 
> 
> Lots of kisses,  
> ~ K

Ch. 4 - Kisses & Poisoned Martinis 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

He woke to find her curled up in his arms, their noses nearly touching and her hands buried in the thin fabric of his t-shirt as her soft snores filled his ears.

 

For some reason Jon didn’t move, he knew the sensible thing would be to roll over, move the anonymous woman away from him, but she was more peaceful then he’d ever seen her… he couldn’t bring himself to move for fear of waking her. Besides, if he was really honest with himself he liked the feel of her soft hair in his arms, her breath ghosting over his face as her chest rose and fell under the thin little camisole. 

 

After he had asked about her eyes, her gorgeous, stunning, unique-

 

_Gods do you hear yourself? Shut up._

 

Her purple eyes. She had given him the silent treatment for the rest of the night, turning on her side and pretending to sleep until he stopped peppering her with questions.

 

Was she wearing contacts earlier? Had her eyes always been purple? Why did she hide them?

 

She’d ignored him like a pro, yet here she was cuddled in his arms.

 

_Where she belonged._

 

Ok, what the actual fuck was wrong with him. 

 

He hadn’t reacted to a woman’s advances in years and she _hated_ him! Why on earth he had turned her tracker on for her he had no idea, whenever they got too close he was blinded by a desire to see her naked and writhing underneath him, for once at a lost for words as he finally got to taste her-

 

A soft sigh reached him and he saw her stirring. He feigned sleep instantly, already regretting not rolling over and moving his arms from around her. He heard her breathing even out and it was clear she was awake, probably staring at him with those large bewitching eyes. 

 

She waited a heartbeat before moving his arms off her and getting up from the bed. Jon would be lying if he wasn’t a tad disappointed.

 

It had been several minutes since she had left the bed and he was getting ready to doze off again when a large satin cushion hit him square in the face. He opened his eyes quickly, blinking as he adjusted to the morning light and glaring at the blurry silver haired woman above him. The pillow changed course and she whacked it down on his crotch instead, prancing away as he sat up in a fury.

“Fuckin hell! What’s your problem?!”

 

She turned from him hiding her eyes again and marching to the bathroom, only calling to him over her shoulder as an afterthought.

“It’s ten o’clock right now and we’ve yet to show ourselves to the public, apparently since Tywin owns this city word has spread fast.”

 

He got up shaking frizzy curls out of his eyes, his jet lagged brain not quite understanding her.

“Word of what?”

 

She leaned out of the bathroom, blue colored contacts back in place as she fixed him with a look that made him feel three years old. 

“Word of us! The rich young couple that are one of the exclusive guests invited to Cersei’s birthday extravaganza!”

 

He groaned, mumbling curses under his breath as he realized he’d have to be dressed up like some fancy tosser until the mission was complete. But then his fake wife walked in and rudely interrupted his brooding time with her cute little peach shaped arse. 

 

_Seven hells you creepy fucker get a hold of yourself._

 

Her voice floated around the hotel room as she scurried about preparing this and that, hiding their surveillance equipment and laying out a suit for him-

 

_Wait… what in the old gods above._

 

She smoothed out the collar of one of his pitch black suits holding up a white dress shirt and a grey one to the chandelier’s golden light, apparently deciding which was better. ...How did she even get into his suitcase? He had padlocked it… because the mission report-

 

_Fuck!_

 

His eyes darted around the room spotting the disregarded mission brief packet on an ornate chair and nearly collapsing in relief when it looked to be untouched. As he strode to retrieve it however she started humming. He made it halfway across the room before stopping, unable to keep his infuriating curiosity at bay and turning to see what she could possibly be doing while humming the strange sweet tune. 

 

She was ironing. The KCI’s deadliest top agent was ironing his suit… and humming. Her face was relaxed, her expression unguarded, and he felt himself grow hard at the sweet way she steamed and pressed at the creases of his suit jacket. 

 

_That woman has to be drugging me._

 

Jon shook himself firmly, flooding his mind with images of Arya and Ghost, trying desperately to walk back to his suitcase and fold away the mission brief without revealing the embarrassing state of his trousers. As he pushed around the clothes his sister had packed him however a glint of silver caught his eye. 

 

He pulled on the sparkling corner of grey fabric that peaked out from between his rolled dress shirts and watched, awestruck, as it unfurled into a floor length evening gown. It was gorgeous… and more expensive than anything he had ever owned. As he turned the silky fabric over in his hands however, a yellow note that had been stuck to its bodice fluttered to the suite’s plush carpet.

 

He picked up the note and crossed to the bed, laying the dress out beside his freshly ironed suit and trying to ignore his wife’s sweet humming now echoing from their shared marble bathroom. He unfolded the creased yellow paper with haste, wary of his partner as he recognized the familiar boxy handwriting. 

 

_Convince her to wear this._

 

  * __S__



 

 

The grate of the door being opened signaled that his time was up and Jon shoved the now balled up yellow note in his back pocket, trying to ignore the way his stomach flipped when his fake wife set her eyes on him, then the dress, gasping softly and reaching for the gaudy fabric. He decided then, quick and easy as he usually did, he would follow Stannis’s orders. No matter how much his instincts told him to question them.

 

“You’re wearing that today.”

 

Her expression shifted from soft wonderment to cold suspicion too quickly.

“Why would I wear this?”

 

He fumbled for a split second but in his mind’s eye images of her in that dress were all the answer he needed.

“Because I need my wife to look fucking breathtaking tonight.”

 

His mystery woman huffed but he didn’t miss the gorgeous burst of pink that dusted her cheeks, followed by the indignant reply he had come to expect from her. 

“You don’t have to worry Snow, I look fucking breathtaking every night.”

 

Jon agreed all too quickly with her in his head, but nearly panicked until she snatched the dress from the bed and stormed to the safety of what was fast becoming her bathroom, not theirs. When the door slammed shut he nearly collapsed, it was going to be a hell of a long night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He fidgeted by the stairs, the glaring light from the hotel’s many chandeliers reflecting off the silver Rolex on his wrist. It was twelve bloody thirty, didn’t she want to be there by one? Jon didn’t care what time they got to the Casino but he assumed she’d want to make a good impression and arrive on time. He glanced up the sweeping stairs once more his eyes catching on the ornate sculptures lining the marble steps, it made him uncomfortable, all the wealth. 

 

“Trouble in paradise my friend?”

 

Jon tried to suppress a growl, he knew that voice, had only ever heard it in multiple car commercials and several cologne ads but he knew it. The smooth drawl could only belong to Jaime Lannister, or as Arya had labeled him;

 ‘the golden tosspot’ or ‘the stupidest lion’.

 

He ran a hand through his hair and fixed what he hoped looked like a polite expression on his face as he eyed the blonde man.

“Sorry?”

 

He smiled, a lazy grin on his face that displayed perfectly straight teeth that were far too white for his tanned complexion.

“You look pretty serious man, you’re in Monaco! Lighten up!”

 

Jon tried his best not to frown but it was difficult.

“I’m light enough thanks, just waiting on my wife so we can head to the Casino.”

 

Jon despised the way his green eyes lit up at the words ‘my wife’. 

“Ah, I’m all too familiar with that line except it’s my sister that I’m constantly waiting for.”

 

He nodded, unsure of how to continue the conversation and attempting to turn away and go back to his own business. Unfortunately the golden tosspot seemed intent on engaging him in conversation.

“I never caught your name friend.”

 

This man was anything but a friend.

“Sand. Daemon Sand.”

 

Jaime stood straighter, subtly puffing out his chest as men always did in Jon’s presence when they realized he was someone of importance.

“I believe I’ll be seeing you at Cersei’s party then yes? You’re a guest of my father’s?”

 

Jon nodded cautiously going for casual disinterest as he leaned against the railing of the staircase. To his disgust Jaime continued to ramble on.

“Mind if I head over to the Casino with the pair of you? I’m sure my men would love to meet-”

 

He glanced up from underneath his now messy curls, curious as to why the rambling had stopped. As he followed Jaime’s wide eyed gaze to the staircase however, he was reminded violently of how curiosity killed the cat.

 

She was a vision in green, her silver hair piled haphazardly on her head as she descended the stairs with the grace of some golden age actress. Jon couldn’t look away, she wasn’t wearing the dress he had told her to wear and for some reason the thought couldn’t incite anger in him, not when she was looking like _that_. The gown that currently hugged her sinuous curves was a deep sage, the neckline low and wrapped in opaque tulle that billowed into long sleeves, the latter ending in delicately flowered cuffs on her wrists, her slender fingers dripping with silver rings. It was belted at the waist as well, the skirt ballooning outwards and ending just above her shapely knees, Jon noted it was just long enough to cover the incredibly sexy dragon tattoo that curled up her thigh… a pair of matching wedge heels hugging her dainty feet completed the falsely innocent look as she reached the pair of them.

 

She stepped off the final stair and looked at him, not even glancing in Jaime’s direction. Her silver flyaways caressed the sides of her face and as far as Jon could tell she wore no makeup save for a soft burnt red shade of lipstick. He got lost in her eyes, searching for hints of the exotic purple underneath the façade of blue. When he realized her soft smile was teasing however, Jon realized that he was most definitely a dead cat. 

“Hello Daemon.”

 

Jon had to take a few seconds to remember that he was supposed to be Daemon and only Jaime’s awkward cough woke him up, quickly stepping aside to introduce his partner to the stupidest lion.

“This is Jaime-”

 

“Lannister, you can call me Jaime. Miss?”

The man pushed past him taking her hand in his own and dropping a kiss to one of her rings, the diamond studded one that signaled she was a _married_ woman. Jon’s married woman to be exact.

 

He bristled and grabbed her up by the waist, quickly reminding her that no matter how attractive she probably thought the Lannister bastard was she was here as _his wife._ To Jon’s surprise however she smiled sweetly pressing a soft hand to his suit lapel and smoothing it, an intimate gesture that cleverly screamed trust and familiarity.

“Sand. Tyene Sand.”

 

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t relish the way Lannister’s smirk slipped, the way his interest turned to jealousy as he realized she was taken. Something inside of Jon roared its approval.

 

“Ah well, I can’t wait to get to know you better Mrs. Sand.”

Jaime’s smirk had not yet completely disappeared and Jon bristled at the innuendo Lannister had so boldly suggested.

  


“We’ll see.”

She floated forward, the flowery collar of her dress dipping as she marched to the front of the hotel and out the French doors not waiting for either of the trussed up men. Jon followed her lamely, seeing red as Jaime strode ahead of him, those green cat-like eyes fixated on her ass. 

 

When he finally broke through the doors and into the warm tropical air he found his wife already sitting in the driver's seat of her Porsche, lacquered nails drumming impatiently on the white leather steering wheel as she waited. He struggled to get down the steps, stopping to tip the valet and reaching car in a daze. This woman was throwing his carefully constructed military radar completely out of sync, the image of her billowy sleeves and low cut bodice not leaving his mind as he slid into the passenger's seat next to her. 

 

He was so caught up in the way she fiddled with the ornate silver dragon earring that curled around her ear that he nearly jumped out of his seat when the back door opened and Jaime slid in. 

 

_Seven hells had he been serious about catching a ride with them?!_

 

Apparently so because as the tosspot buckled up he gave ‘Tyene Sand’ a disarmingly charming smile that made Jon want to hit something, preferably Jaime Lannister’s smug face. As his wife revved up the engine and plugged in her phone however he pinched his brows together in frustration, how frivolous was his supposedly professional partner?

 

“Um _darling_ , you do realize the Casino is right next door yes?”

He watched her tense at the pet name as she scrolled through the Bluetooth menu, obviously searching for her device.

 

“Of course, _sweetheart_ I’d just like to listen to a song before we arrive.”

 

Grumbling incoherently he settled into the soft leather, fastening his seat belt tightly, their last drive into town all too fresh in his mind. As he glanced back at her fingers on the glowing touchscreen however, something caught his eye. A small line of blinking white text in the corner of the screen that read ‘connected to Dany’s IPhone.’

 

Jon blinked, not believing his luck at the discovery he had just accidentally made. 

 

_Dany… her name is Dany._

 

He tucked the precious gem of information away for later rolling her name around in his head as she fiddled with the ignition. Then he was jolted forward in his seat, the seatbelt doing nothing to ease the queasiness in his stomach as this madwoman… _Dany_ , floored it. 

 

The blaring base of _Friction_ thumped through the cars speaker system, a brief non-nauseous part of him remembering that, fittingly, this song was by that _Imagine Dragons_ band Arya was fond of. Meanwhile the Porsche careened down the hotel’s main drive as Jaime shouted over the cacophony of electric guitar from the backseat.

 

“Bloody hell Sand, this is why women shouldn’t drive!”

Under normal circumstances Jon would’ve immediately told the prick to shut his mouth but at the moment he himself was trying his hardest to do just that. 

 

When the silver haired speed goddess who was posing as his wife pulled up to the infamous Casino Royale he congratulated himself for not spilling the contents of his hasty lunch on her white leather seats. He glanced at his mystery partner again, the act fast becoming a habit as he took in her exhilarated expression and heaving chest, his queasiness suddenly disappearing… replaced with a dark need that twisted in his stomach and ate at his resolve.

 

_Gods how he would love to ravish her, have her right here against the dashboard, shove up her skirts and get a taste of what he had dipped his finger in only days before-_

 

“Your wife is some woman Mr. Sand.”

Jaime’s snide drawl broke him out of his lust induced trance just in time, for he saw her eyeing him worriedly, as if she too had felt the current of intoxicating energy that flowed between them. But then again that was unlikely and Jon was quick to blame the unnatural infatuation on a lack of intimacy since… well since his last girlfriend.

 

“Mr. Sand’s _wife_ can speak for herself thank you Mr. Lannister.”

She turned in a whirl of sage skirts the muffled sound of her heels receding quickly as Jaime threw a look of want at her back.

 

Jon felt like a kicked puppy in her presence, squashing down the snarling wolfish part of him that wanted to knock Jaime Lannister into the ground for so much as looking at her, and instead following dutifully behind her as they reached the security guards outside the Casino’s grand double doors. She folded her hands in the layers of her dress and stopped in front of a pompous, burly looking man with black shades and a permanent crease between his brows. When she smiled sweetly at the guard he frowned swiftly shutting her down before she even spoke.

 

“No admittance tonight, we’re closed for a private event. Guests of Mr. Lannister only.”

Jon bristled stepping forward and slinging an instinctive protective arm around her shoulders.

 

“I think you’ll find we are guests of Mr. Lannister’s, Mr. Daemon Sand and his _particularly beautiful_ wife Mrs. Tyene Sand.”

He watched with a firm sort of satisfaction as her eyebrows rose to kiss her hairline at the offhand compliment. It was Jon’s turn to raise his eyebrows however when, as the not so intimidating security guard stepped aside muttering lame apologies, she took his arm snugly in her own… was it his imagination or was she leaning into him a little more than was necessary to keep up the newlywed façade? 

 

_It’s definitely your fucked up imagination, idiot._

 

As they ascended the stairs and were shown to the private luxury foyer that had no doubt been reserved solely for Tywin Lannister and his guests, it took every ounce of Jon’s years of experience in undercover work to not gasp in awe of the room before them. The domed chamber was purely a display of wealth, one so excessive Jon was at a loss for words. Most of his undercover work had been done behind grimy alleys and under filth encrusted bridges, never something this… _luxurious_.

 

The room was square shaped and large enough for about thirty people to fit comfortably in, it’s domed ceiling and high columns giving the unneeded illusion of grandeur. Each chandelier and every candelabra was dripping gold and diamonds the carved detailing embellished onto almost every surface. Even the soft green carpeted floor couldn’t take away from the excessive _shine_ of everything in the room. From the polished crystal glasses held loosely in elegant hands to the polished granite bar top, even the winkings of diamonds around every woman’s neck were enough to make Jon feel incredibly out of place. 

 

As if sensing his discomfort the nearest group of men turned to look over the new arrivals, they were all easily between twenty and forty, cigars and whiskey held in nearly all their hands as every single pair of eyes fixated on _his wife._ She wasn’t his at all really… he had no right… and yet it was as if she could read his mind. They were on a mission, appearances had to be kept for the sake of said mission even though his couldn’t have been more different then hers.

 

The woman who currently clutched his arm had already spotted the group of young men, comprehending the situation at hand quickly and assessing the possible solutions incrementally… that’s what Jon would’ve done. Her eyes fixated on his, the mottled blue and trace of purple narrowing with confidence as he took her in, it seemed she had chosen a way to keep their cover.

 

Extracting her arm from his she swayed closer, her nails brushing the back of his neck as she leaned into his ear, the smell of her flowery perfume enveloping him. Her breath was low and husky against his ear, full of seductive promise.

 

“ _Darling_ , I’m going to go get a drink. Why don’t you go play with the grown men that look like they want to devour me.”

Jon couldn’t help himself, gripping her waist with a possessive hand at the words ‘devour me’.

 

She just smirked against his ear, licking the lobe and biting it lightly in full view of Mr. Lannister’s other private guests. He knew what she was doing was in the sole interest of keeping their cover but he had to reign in every ounce of his raw need so as not to rut against her in public. 

 

_That was probably going too far._

 

But as he watched her retreat to the bar, those hips swaying back and forth like a hypnotizing pendulum beneath that dress Jon could hardly remember why they had opposing agendas, his thoughts filled with lusty fantasies. If her fiery persona was any hint as to how she was in bed… then how far really was _too far?_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He had been sitting in the smoke filled corner for the hours trying to engage in casual conversation with some of Tywin’s most elite, all the while watching her from the corner of his eye. Her small form at the bar looking sumptuously relaxed, a half full martini balanced lightly in one ringed hand as she surveyed the room with a marksman’s eye. 

 

Jon shook himself mentally, forcing his focus back to the droning conversation at hand and keeping a close eye on Jaime, the only Lannister that had decided to grace the party with his presence tonight it seemed. The businessmen around him muttering amongst themselves about how Tywin was always too ‘busy’ now to join his own social gatherings. When Jon looked at the men lounging in leather chairs around him, he found it hard not to curl his lip in disgust at all of them. 

 

To his right? Joffrey Baratheon, Tywin’s spoiled and perverted little grandson, a known drug addict and constant pain in the DWIA’s ass. He’d lost count of how many cases they’d been forced to turn away because Joffrey was involved, it didn’t matter what the little shit did, Cersei was his mother, Tywin his grandfather and the pair probably paid Stannis a cold million each year to keep his name clear… he was untouchable. 

 

To his left sat Gregor and Sandor Clegane the brothers who constantly hurt others in their wild attempts to best one another, Gregor’s underground boxing club a known hotspot for only the filthiest of Westeros’s criminals. The list only got better and better.

 

Across from him lounged Aurane Waters, a young good looking sadist who made his own fine whiskey and had a thing for leaving married women high and dry. Next to him sat Euron Greyjoy a piece of pirate filth that ferried illegal goods to and from Tywin’s main warehouses but had been put on trial for suspected female disappearances and kidnappings several times… he had somehow managed to get off scott free more then once. And finally, standing off to Euron’s side stood Roose Bolton, the thin man cutting a much more imposing figure then any of the others, the man rumored to be Tywin’s _real_ right hand man. 

 

Everyone knew Jaime was just a figurehead really, heir to the fortune and good with a gun, the lazy sod definitely didn’t need Jon’s protecting. Besides, the way he had been glancing at a certain Mrs. Sand throughout the evening had Jon almost rooting for his partner to kill him. 

 

But then again. That road led to insanity. 

 

Jon was stirred from his brooding by a nudge to the knee, a glance across the chairs revealing the slimy smirk of Aurane Waters as he raised a nearly empty glass in the direction of the bar. 

“I’d watch out if I were you Sand, I think Ramsays’s bout to take your girl home for the night.”

 

Jon’s eyes narrowed, trying hard to look nonchalant as he turned to look at her, his heart skipping a few beats as he saw the man that was currently far too close to her, a filthy leer twisting his smug face.

 

Ramsay. Bolton. 

 

This son of a bitch had dipped his blood covered hands in it all; sex trafficking, drug abuse, blackmarket arms… you name it he’d done it. The DWIA had tried to pin him down for years under Ned’s leadership, back when he’d been an out of control reckless upstart known only as Bolton’s Bastard. When Stannis took control however, he got bolder… the rumored accounts of the obscene things he had done to certain trafficked women making Jon grip the arms of his chair with newfound fervor remembering what he had told himself he would do to the fucker if he ever lay a hand on one of his sisters. Getting up in a flash and ignoring the chuckles from the circle of smoking criminals behind him The White Wolf prowled to the bar.

 

When he reached her Ramsay had already placed his hand on her wrist, his grip far too tight to be friendly. Jon wrenched it aside without a second thought, putting himself as close to the Mother of Dragons as possible. His heart aching for the assassin seated beside him on a velvet bar stool, his knees nearly giving out from worry as he heard her little sigh of relief at his arrival, her small arms circling his waist as she leaned her head against her chest. His eyes softened as he stared down at the top of her head, repressing the urge to drop a kiss to her silver crown before turning back to the human shitbag before him.

 

Ramsay still had that creepy leer etched into his face, his eyes narrowing as Jon cut him a glare that sent a clear message. 

 

 _Back the fuck off_.

 

“So sorry… hadn’t realized this lovely pear had been plucked…”

Jon snarled at him a little, one arm circling around the woman at his side, his concern for her mounting when she didn’t reply to the man’s objectifying comment sharply.

 

“Yes she has, strange that you overlooked something as glaringly obvious as a wedding ring… Mr….?”

He pretended to inquire after his name, just so he could curse it in her company once they reached the safety of their room, her weakening grip on his waist setting off an alarm as he tried to end the unpleasant conversation at hand.

 

“Bolton. Ramsay Bolton. I won’t forget you or your wife Mr. Sand… you both have a pleasant evening now.”

 

Gods Jon had never wanted to punch so many men in one day, how was it that everyone in here was a complete scumbag? Pushing down thoughts of beating Ramsay to a bloody pulp for even insinuating he’d think about his silver haired partner again Jon took a seat beside her, grabbing her hand when it fell from around his waist. He saw her sip her drink slowly, gripping his hand like a lifeline as her eyes took on a haunted look that he didn’t ever want to see again. So he did what any gentleman would do. He changed the subject.

 

“What have you been up to this whole time _Mrs. Sand_?”

She eased a little at his teasing her fingers fidgeting with the ornate puffs of her sleeves as she side eyed him mischievously.

 

“Oh you know… just poisoning Jaime Lannister’s drink.”

Jon nearly had a stroke.

 

“W-What?”

She was beaming now and Jon was happy to see the haunted look banished from her gorgeous eyes but his mind was reeling.

 

“I did it! He should drop dead within the next few minutes, I was extremely discreet. The martini should reach him in just a moment.”

Jon panicked, grabbing her by the arm and walking briskly to the door as inconspicuously as possible despite her whispered protests.

 

“Snow it’s alright no one will know it was us, it’ll look like an accident.”

They had just made it to the door when her words triggered it, the hazy sterile lighting of Stannis’s office rushing back as his boss’s words boomed in his ears.

 

_‘I don’t care how you do it to be honest, make it look like an accident if you want, just… well it’ll probably be best if you don’t let her survive the mission.’_

 

He was a fool, he really did know absolutely nothing. How could he even think about this woman the way he did when his eventual mission was to kill her? Hell his main mission was to protect the Lannister family whereas she was bent on destroying them!

 

Currently he was failing on both fronts.

 

“Snow what the hell are you doing? If you want to leave then we should calmly go take Viserion not linger by the door like a pair of suspicious idiots!”

She was right, of course she was right. But his mission…

 

“You go, I need to make sure you got him.”

His partner touched the dragon that snarled around her ear absentmindedly and nodded, seeing the sense in his false statement and rushing down the stairs to her beloved car… or at least that’s who he was assuming ‘Viserion’ was.

 

When he entered the room again it was to the same relaxed and smoky haze as before, the soft jazz music contrasting Jon’s hyper anxiety as he searched the floor for a martini headed in Jaime’s direction… a tiny part of him hoping he was too late. But then he saw it. The triangular glass balanced on a tray, the tiny twisted lemon peel bouncing on the rim. He moved along the outskirts of the room, as fast as possible without attracting too much attention, his mind solely focused on what could happen to Arya… should he fail.

 

When he reached him Jaime was reclining, feet up in a velvet studded chair as he eyed Jon warily. He got there just in time, his curls probably mussed up more than ever now that he had hastily made his way over to Tywin’s heir. Jaime was already reaching for the martini, completely oblivious to its sinister contents as he wrapped long fingers around the glass’s slender neck.

 

“Don’t drink it.”

He paused. Green eyes staring Jon down over the rim of the glass, confusion mixed with intrigue and annoyance as he regarded him.

 

“And why not?”

Jon sighed grabbing the drink from him and emptying its contents onto the carpeted floor discreetly trying hard not to garner attention from Tywin’s other unsavory guests.

 

“Because it’s been poisoned. I’m the DWIA Agent your father assigned to protect your family.”

Jaime’s blonde brows rose slightly, masking his evident surprise with a nervous laugh.

 

“Well who’s trying to poison me then?”

Jon tensed, every muscle in his body twinging on hyper alert as he scrambled for an answer, a lie that would protect her.

 

“Some of our intelligence suggests the Crowned Men are behind it sir but we can’t be sure, all I know is that I saw someone slip a capsule in that martini.”

Lannister nodded, a cold sweat obvious on his brow as he tried to keep his composure.

 

“Then I thank you Mr.-”

He paused, suspicion creeping over the handsome lines of his face.

“Your name’s not Sand... is it?”

 

“No sir.”

Jon fell into his mask quickly, the action ten times easier without his intoxicating partner around to distract him.

 

“No need to call me sir… will you be accompanying me to my hotel room then? Guard my door and such?”

He nearly gagged at the idea of guarding this man’s door.

 

“No Mr. Lannister, I’ll be keeping my distance until the party. That’s when you’ll really need my protection.”

Jaime still looked skeptical, his eyes now flitting nervously from person to person.

 

Jon was familiar with the stages of disbelief when the high ups found out they were being targeted. It usually ended in what he saw now, heightened suspicion of every person and in every surrounding. But it was getting late and if he didn’t get back to the car soon, his KCI wife might sprout suspicions as to why he really stayed behind.

 

“Have a good night Mr. Lannister, I’ll be in touch with your father.”

In truth Jon could probably ask Arya to hack Jaime’s phone at any time at all. But he didn’t need to know that… obliviousness was often the best form of protection.

 

When he finally got the fuck out of the Casino however a note was waiting for him with one of the security guards. The burly man from earlier stepping into his path and glaring before handing Jon a neatly folded note.

 

“Mr. Sand? Your wife left this for you.”

Jon sighed, taking in a lungful of cool night air before unfolding the note warily.

 

_Daemon,_

 

_I took Viserion back to the hotel, desperately needed a shower. Take a taxi back here. Or walk._

_To be honest I don’t care what you do._

 

_~ Tyene_

 

DWIA’s top agent placed a hand to his temple, her tone already giving him a headache as he resolved to walk the few feet it took to get to the hotel. If her note was any clue, his wife, _that he had to kill before this mission ended…_ was not going to be happy when he got back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time The White Wolf reached their room he was fucking tired, he needed a shower, some sleep, and maybe a strong drink.

 

As he stripped off his suit jacket and made his way to the master bedroom Jon tugged at the tie around his neck, the fabric feeling chokingly tight in light of his recent actions. Guilt was his constant fucking companion… guilt for not doing the right thing, guilt for doing the wrong thing, and guilt for even thinking about walking away when his baby sister’s well being was on the line.

 

His brooding was interrupted however when he realized the loud sounds of the shower could be heard from their bathroom. Hadn’t she been back for almost an hour now? Not thinking much of it Jon pushed open the door slightly, wary of seeing something that might wake the lustful beast in his chest, the one that constantly growled and panted around the Mother of Dragons.

 

Instead what he saw killed any dark intentions he had, every guilty and confused thought in his head banished as he beheld KCI’s most elite assassin. 

 

She was still fully dressed, her once puffy green gown stuck to her body like a slick glove, the ends of the knee length skirt swirling in the shallow water. Her head was against the tile, hair drenched and eyes closed as she sat against the shower’s tiles interior. Jon could see everything through the showers clear glass, her red lipstick smeared at the edges as she clutched herself in a trembling hug. 

 

He couldn’t believe it. She had seemed so cocky after everything, no matter what the mission had thrown at her so far, to him she had seemed like an untouchable goddess… above emotions and fears. But here she sat, alone and soaking wet on the floor of their shower, her chest obviously heaving with incoherent sobs. Jon didn’t think twice about stepping out of his shoes, walking towards the shower and joining her under it’s deluge without a second thought. 

 

He sat close enough that their shoulders touched, but as soon as the water had soaked through his hair and shirt she grabbed at him, her arms wrapping around his right tightly. Jon didn’t respond, just grabbed as much of her soaked fabric as possible, bringing her close and leaning his chin on the crown of her wet head. The water had blurred his vision and soaked through his pants by the time she spoke, her voice cracked and tired.

 

“That man...Ramsay… I handle men like him all the time it’s just- h-h-he.”

Jon watched her struggle to find the words and eventually give up, looking up at him with those red rimmed and glassy purple eyes.

 

_She had taken off her contacts._

 

“Shh Dany you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

He didn’t know what made him say it… the name rolled out so naturally that it sounded like he’d been saying it for years… like his mouth was meant to say it.

 

She nodded meekly under his chin agreeing until she realized his word choice and tensed, her grip on him loosening and her breath coming in short bursts.

“H-How?”

 

“Your Bluetooth device in the car. It said Dany’s IPhone.”

He could at least tell her the truth about _that_.

 

She just stared, those plump red lips of hers turned down in suspicion as she evaluated him, her no doubt excellent mind picking him apart and exposing his deepest and darkest desires.

 

“Just because you know my name doesn’t mean you know me.”

He frowned at the reminder of how little they knew each other, the beast inside of him telling him to change that as soon as possible.

 

“No. It doesn’t.”

Jon resigned to let her keep up her walls if she wished, promising silently to quell his own lusty urges if she had no interest in him.

 

But when he cast his eyes down at the glossy wet tiles her smirk returned clear as day, as if she had been toying with his feelings this whole time.

“Then again Snow, you never will if you never try.”

 

She bit one of her lips, water running down her face and spilling over her neck… every part of her practically begging to be touched. All of a sudden Jon was all too aware of how far away she had scooted from him, his most base instincts telling him to rectify that. So he did.

 

He slid towards her slowly, eyes fixed on her still wary expression with distaste, she was right to be suspicious... wasn’t he supposed to betray her eventually? Jon couldn’t bring himself to remember that small detail in the moment however, the hot water running down his face and into his eyes. Dany backed up until the sodden fabric of her dress hit the wall, her hair stuck to her head at odd angles as her expression gained a measure of fear. No one had ever looked more appealing to Jon in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to tear the dress off her then and there, sampling her wet flesh until every crevice of her body had known his touch… erasing any and all lingering thoughts of that smarmy bastard from the Casino.

 

She simply stared at him, violet eyes flitting frantically around the shower in search of an exit. Jon guessed what game she was playing immediately, her helpless ploy fueling his predatory instincts as he closed in on her. The fact that she had probably used this same strategy on dozens of men before him only made him more eager to make her forget them, erase all thoughts of other men once he had tasted her.

 

That was the last coherent thought he had, before closing the space between them and grabbing her face in his hands, their wet lips colliding with a ferocity he was wholly unprepared for. 

 

She was everywhere at once, her taste and her scent mingling with his skin underneath the hot water, her tongue already sliding along his bottom lip to request entry. Jon happily obliged, his shock at how _fantastic_ her soft lips felt against his still not having faded. When she began to grab at his chest and press against him harder however he felt obliged to wrestle with her tongue, regaining control as he quelled her intensity, a hand sliding down from her face to grip her thigh underneath the wet fabric of her dress. 

 

When he finally released her to breath she moaned, a sound so astonishingly sexy he had to dig his fingers into her thigh to remind himself she was even _real_. She forced him out of his revery her teeth sharp on his neck as she practically suckled at the wet skin, at that it was Jon’s turn to moan, never had anyone matched his intensity. He always held back... but with her? He let everything go.

 

He sunk one hand into her wet hair, yanking her head back and sinking his teeth into her collarbone, sucking and pulling until he was sure there would be a mark. A mark letting the world know she was _his_. Dany didn’t submit easily however, and he relished the struggle. She slung her arms around his neck, forcing him up to her swollen mouth and diving into his taste tongue first. He wrestled and pinned her tongue to her cheek, caressing every corner of her sweet mouth with his own wet appendage, mimicking what he hoped to do to her cunt should he ever get the chance. 

 

When her squirming against him intensified he slid the hand that was on her thigh up to her ass, clutching the soft flesh tightly and attempting to pin her under his attentions. Jon couldn’t have been less successful, she bit at his lips and tore at his hair, every bit like the Dragons she was named mother of. It turned him on, it made his blood run hot, everything about her did. Then her tongue was at his ear and she caressed it with a whisper, a gasp slipping free when he rutted against her, feeling the heat of her center through the rain of water and the soaked fabric. 

 

“Snow.”

It was breathless, the little whimper of his last name. But it brought everything rushing back, the weight of reality suddenly pressing in until Jon couldn’t breath, couldn’t see. Stannis’s voice booming through his conscious as he grabbed weakly at her skirts. 

 

_‘It’ll probably be best if you don’t let her survive the mission.’_

 

And looking at her then, her drenched and heaving chest, her wide and confused purple eyes as she sat there against the shower wall… he couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t be able to he knew it. 

 

So he got up. Turning off the shower and leaving in a daze, rivulets of water running down his face as he grabbed a towel from the ornate shelf. He couldn’t look at her… how could he when he was hiding so much? They weren’t on the same side and he couldn’t put Arya in danger... there were too many risks. 

 

Jon knew if he looked back he would have kissed her again, taken her in his arms and released the pent up frustration that had been growing between the two of them since that night at the club. So he didn’t. 

 

The White Wolf changed into a fresh pair of sweatpants, pulling on a soft white muscle tank and shaking the droplets from his hair. He slipped into bed and turned his back to her side, he didn’t turn. Not even when he felt her light form settle on the opposite side. 

 

 _Think of Arya. You have to protect her_. 

 

But when the sound of her soft crying reached his ears a part of him broke. How could he add to her suffering like this? If he made her feel that much worse about today after he had robbed her of her target than he really was no crueler than the Lannisters. 

 

So against his better judgement, he rolled over, scooping up the tiny silver haired assassin in his arms and holding her. Her cries lessened and she relaxed almost immediately, her chin resting on his arm as she drifted off, her body curled into his as he struggled with himself. The swirling tempest of guilt and anger only easing when he buried his face in her hair. The sweet smell of her easing him into the deepest most sweet sleep The White Wolf had had in a long while.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! How was that guys?! 
> 
> Next chapter is Cersei’s birthday bash, but unfortunately I can’t promise it’ll be out soon. Real life is keeping me real busy for the next few weeks so I’ll try my best...
> 
> Nothing motivates me more then your feedback though, so drop by and tell me how you thought this chapter went and if you’re hungry for more!
> 
> Until next time,  
> ~ K <3


	5. The Dragon’s Defeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany grapples with her demons and dresses up for her ‘fiancé’. Jon makes a phone call, Tywin gets to know the new rich young couple in town. Stannis ruins the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my dears! I missed everyone so much <3
> 
> Your girl has been working her ass off with writing and classes back to back but I’m trying my hardest to get everyone the updates they deserve.
> 
> I hope this chapter satisfies some of your guys’s intense ‘spy smut’ cravings! And if it doesn’t well... I’ll just have to write more ;)
> 
> As usual allll the hugs and kisses to my family (aka the Jonerys discord) you guys literally rock my world. Anyways enjoy and leave a comment if you have any questions, concerns, or compliments loves! 
> 
> Kisses,  
> Lilacs

Ch. 5 -The Dragon’s Defeat

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

She awoke in a daze, her head pounding as she rolled in his arms, enjoying the way he tightened his grasp on her. He was warm… she could feel soft sunlight spilling across her face as she languished in his arms, cheek against his rising and falling chest. 

 

Inevitably though, MOD’s treacherous negativity started to creep in, the trained assassin in her tugging viciously at the contentment she felt in his arms. 

 

_ You bared too much of yourself last night… _

 

_ He thinks you’re weak… _

 

_ Why did he go back last night? _

 

_ You. Can’t. Trust. Him. _

 

Her eyes flew open. The purple of her irises brightening as she adjusted to Monaco’s morning light. Dany knew she had overdone it on the Martinis last night, letting him see a side of her that even Missy rarely saw… the side that Drogo had left broken and hurt. She shuddered under the warm coverlet at the thought, focusing instead on her partners now angelic face, bereft of its usual hard lines and dark frown. 

 

The black spray of lashes against his pale closed eyelids and the scars around his eyes intriguing her to no end… what would it feel like to run her tongue along those scars? To lick her way down the chest concealed beneath that tight shirt… to keep going until she got to that delicious thick cock that she had felt a taste of in the club, she would wrap her mouth around the-

 

He stirred, his eyelids fluttering and she froze in his arms, feigning sleep and releasing a soft whimper as she realized an uncomfortable sticky wetness was already dampening her panties. Dany felt him wake up without opening her eyes, the way his fingertips started caressing the sides of her bare shoulders, the calluses delightfully hardened by years of clutching a weapon. This compassionate man whose first name she didn’t even know… who just two days ago she had been prepared to kill. 

 

Now his breath was warming her forehead, his hands still not having moved from their position around her… this was the second time she had woken up like this with him. Daenerys was beginning to think that it was no accident.

 

Suddenly he shifted and she felt him against her stomach, hard and unyielding, the feel of him nearly making her cry out in shock. Of course he was most likely stiff this early in the morning but she couldn’t very well move from his arms… not when she was feigning sleep and the arousal between her legs was growing so potent that she felt sure her underwear would be unable to stop it for much longer.

 

Just as these extremely troubling thoughts had burst in her conscious however, he sniffed, a deep inhalation that shook his chest. Dany stiffened in his arms, fighting to keep her breathing even as he slipped an arm underneath the hotel’s fine sheets. She held her breath then, as his fingers ghosted over her hip and hovered just above the juncture of her thighs. 

 

Daenerys cursed inwardly, not doubting that he could feel the heat that radiated from her cunt, insanely turned on by the strange thought of him smelling her arousal.

 

_ Like a wolf in truth. _

 

She shivered at the thought and the game was up, her eyes fluttering open and meeting his deepening grey ones. And suddenly, irrationally, she despised him.

 

She twisted out of his arms and flung the sumptuous covers off the bed, practically racing to the bathroom and bolting the door firmly closed. Dany released a deep breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, leaning against the bathroom door’s enameled wood, breathless and glad for a respite from his constantly intense gaze. Gods how she yearned for Missy, her beautiful caramel skinned friend that radiated calm, never failed to cheer her up, and help her focus. 

 

Sighing in defeat she ignored the sound of his movements outside the door. As far as she was concerned he couldn’t reach her in her porcelain safehouse. Finally feeling a modicum of contentment she banished thoughts of the previous night completely, reaching under the sink cabinet to withdraw her hidden laptop, stopping to glare at the silver ball gown that hung on a towel rack and thanking the stars above that he hadn’t gone snooping and discovered either items yet. 

 

As she settled herself cross-legged and comfortable on the bathroom’s plush carpet she decided to do some snooping of her own. Her mistake last night had been a stupid one, of course Bluetooth would’ve revealed her real name! How she could’ve been so ignorant with an enemy agent in her car was lost on her, that was the kind of mistake that Dany made. MOD never made mistakes.

 

Glancing at the time in the uppermost corner of her slim MacBook as she flipped it open, Dany mentally reminded herself that Cersei’s party started at 7:00 and to be there in time she had to start getting ready at 5:30. She was completely content with sifting through the internet for a  _ ‘Mr. Snow’  _ until then. And anyways while the drive to the estate was an estimated thirty minutes on maps she was confident she could make it twenty.

 

_  That is if Mr. Nauseous doesn’t throw up. _

 

Her thoughts turned bitter then, a glance at the shower beside her a kick in the teeth.

 

_ What had happened there again? _

 

Her mind was blurred, fuzzy tear filled moments coming back in bursts with a leering masculine face at the forefront.

 

_ Ramsay…  _

 

She remembered now. Seven hells he had scared her. And MOD never got scared.

 

‘ _ Why aren’t you just the prettiest little thing, you look like you were made for Ramsay sweetheart.’ _

 

_ She hadn’t looked up from her drink, bored with the many men that had approached her and the many glares Snow had sent her way.  _

 

_ But then a hand snatched at her wrist, a tight iron grip that had startled her bad enough to make her forget she had a knife strapped to her thigh.  _

 

_ ‘It’s rude not to answer when you’re spoken to little Miss, I wouldn’t want to have to take you home and teach you a lesson now would I?’ _

 

_ Dany remembered being angry, instantly going mad with the want to hurt this man, sure his stubby fingers would leave bruises if he held on for much longer. But then, just as she had been ready to reach for her knife in front of a casino full of people  _ **_he_ ** _ had been there. Steadfast and calm by her side, instantly removing the man’s vile grip from around her wrist and wrapping her in an embrace. _

 

Dany stared at the shower. Seven hells  **_he had kissed her ..._ ** and as the memories of his hands and his wet mouth came crashing back Daenerys could’ve sworn that at the time she…  _ she had enjoyed it. _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dany… come on!” 

 

She rolled her eyes at his thick northern brogue, promptly ignoring him and applying another coat of matte red lipstick. It clashed with the dress’s silver but she couldn’t bring herself to give a fuck. 

 

“ _ Darling _ if you don’t get out here right now we’re going to be  _ late _ !”

 

Daenerys blinked away his sarcasm and took in her reflection. She had made sure her silver locks cascaded down her back in waves, the ends just brushing the top of her arse. Admiring the minimal makeup and bold lip she frowned at the dress he had practically forced on her, cursing it’s obviously expensive fabric and the perfect way it hugged her curves. Dany had concluded to wear it purely because she felt like none of her dresses were up to the occasion. When she spun to the door she took pride in the way her grey pumps clicked loudly against the tile.

 

_ Strange… this infernal thing has the heaviest skirts I’ve ever worn. _

 

When she flung open the door he had been leaning on he stumbled, pausing when he turned to face her and gaping. She let him stare, enjoying the way he gawked at her with a mixture of awe and obvious lust. But when she found herself biting a lip at the way his dark suit fit him just right she grabbed her red clutch and shoved past him, throwing on a silky shawl and yelling over her shoulder.

 

“ **Never** tell a woman to hurry up in the bathroom Snow.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The drive to the estate had been disappointingly uneventful. But as they pulled up alongside the sweeping cobblestone drive that led to the gated mansion Snow bid her pull over, picking up his sleek phone and explaining it was ‘of paramount importance’ that he made a call. She snorted but agreed letting him get out and close the door, unbeknownst to him however she cracked Viserion’s driver door open. 

 

Daenerys strained her ears over the muffled sound of waves in the distance and focused on his voice, her suspicion growing as she heard him tell whoever it was to keep their voice down.

 

“Shh shh love I know but it’s going to be alright ok?”

 

_ Love? So he had a- _

 

“Arya stop it. You’re my sister,  _ of course _ I care about you. But I won’t kill an innocent woman just because Stannis wants me to.”

 

_ Innocent woman? Surely he didn’t mean her? They were partners… and she most definitely was not an innocent woman. _

 

“Promise me you’ll get somewhere safe. Try to get to Sansa, I’m sure the KCI will hide you two if Stannis tries anything.”

 

_ What was going on? How did Snow know Dragonfly’s real name? _

 

“I know, I will. I love you… please don’t do anything stupid Arya.”

 

“Jon you’re the stupid one, you don’t have to worry about me.”

 

Dany blinked. The person on the other end had practically yelled hysterically into the speaker, allowing her to hear them too. But as she closed the door softly she couldn’t help but grin.

 

_ Jon. His name is Jon. _

 

“Alright Mrs. Sand take it away.”

Dany smiled, wider this time as she coaxed Viserion’s engine into the red of her speed dial. Relishing the air she got on each protruding cobblestone and laughing in delight when her fake husband grabbed at her arm in terror. 

 

When they screeched to a stop in front of the ginormous red brick estate Dany felt winded and marginally happier then she’d been all day. As usual driving her one of her children made her confidence soar, increasing MOD’s appetite for trouble.

 

“What’s the matter  _ darling? _ Can the White Wolf not handle high speeds?”

 

She smirked at him, eyes flicking to his hand still clutching her bare arm. When he glanced down at where she was looking however he turned the tables. Now his fingers were stroking the bare skin not clutching, caressing and tracing patterns that made her flinch and blush. When she hissed at him and tried to pull away he only leaned closer, the smell of cologne and faint cigarette smoke drawing her in.

 

“Going so soon  _ sweetheart? _ Why don’t we stay for a while… I’ll show you just exactly what the White Wolf can  _ handle _ .”

 

She nearly squeaked in surprise, covering her flush with a snarl as she practically leapt from the car, not even glancing at the doorman as she marched inside. Dany stormed up the sweeping marble steps, refusing to wait for him until she reached the yawning carved doors. 

 

What was it about that bastard that ruffled her so?! Her game had never been so off, and she had to focus on killing the most greedy family in Westeros tonight.

 

Cursing the White Wolf internally as she studied her flushed cheeks in one of the many opulent hallway mirrors, Dany tucked and prodded, pushing up her dress and checking that her poison pills were secured safely at her thigh. If the dress’s tight grey layers didn’t distract and seduce she didn’t know what would at this point, MOD’s confidence having been left behind in the car with her fake fiancé.

 

Finally she peaked through the large intricately carved double doors, eyeing the loud decadent atmosphere with distaste until she remembered her training. Her eyes darted back and forth, counting 1,2, … 3 exits. Heavy velvet curtains off to the side meant easy hiding spots, the gilded grande staircase? Lead to living quarters. Those secluded rooms in the corner that were surrounded by giggling party guests? Private pleasure rooms. Obviously.  

 

Dany sighed, she had heard Cersei was a serious sex junkie but she definitely hadn’t expected her birthday party to be filled with all the kinky things she was into. In the center of the polished wood floor was a tower of champagne… surrounded by bowls of what looked like harmless little hard candies but could only be stimulation drugs. Overly oiled shirtless men, and busty bra-clad women carried silver platters piled high. When Dany peeked closer she realized with absolute shock that some offered horderves while others offered an array of sex toys. 

 

Suddenly about one hundred thousand times more nervous Dany shrank from the door, her insides churning at the thought of being with  _ Jon _ in there. But then an arm was gripping her waist comfortably, squeezing her hips and leading her through the door and into abandon before she could protest.

 

As they entered together the pair of spies sized up the room, eyes wandering to the exact same checkpoints. Dany turned to him as he turned to her, their voices tumbling out at the same time.

 

“Twelve security cameras, six guards, and three exits.”

 

He stared at her,  _ was there admiration there? _ No, The Mother of Dragons would not give in to such a childish fantasy, hurriedly pushing the sudden urge to kiss him where he stood deep deep down. Instead, she called over a muscled waiter and plucked an obscene dildo from the platter, running her fingers over its stiff spikes and notches, surprising herself as always when she stared straight at his shocked face and  _ winked. _

 

Her partner, sputtered like a fish out of water, his face turning red as his eyes darted around the room again, finally noticing details besides the room’s security. His lovely dark eyes widened at the velvet covered private rooms, his cheeks becoming a deeper shade of pink when he noticed the shirtless waiters, and his tongue darting out to wet his lips nervously as he turned back to her. Before he could bolt back to the North however a stern voice called to them, or rather, their alibis. 

 

“Ah and this must be Mr. and Mrs. Sand!” 

 

When they both turned she subtlety placed a hand against her side, fingers feeling the comforting outline of her handgun safely secured against her thigh underneath the grey gown's ridiculous amount of gauze, the thing was practically dragging Dany down with its weight, her preoccupation with the dress lasting long enough to distract MOD from their caller. 

 

The man approaching them could be no one other than Tywin Lannister, his green eyes and thinning blonde hair a dead give away as he strode towards them, his lean maroon suit of obvious value and his gold watch a telltale giveaway of excessive wealth. But then a man appeared slightly behind Tywin, looking as if he had just been chatting with the senior most Lannister. 

 

This man was of an age with Tywin himself, his grey hair and salted beard all too visible under the golden light of hundreds of crystal chandelier bulbs. When he stepped forward to speak however her fiancé tensed next to her, a subtle almost invisible twitch that Dany did not fail to spot. But Tywin stepped forward to shake Jon’s hand, his eyes passing with little interest over MOD, who did her best to appear meak in the eyes of her target. When both men introduced themselves, (Mr. Brandon Fury and Mr. Tywin Lannister), they were forced into a tacky velvet booth situated along the outskirts of the birthday party and sequestered between two sets of heavily embroidered velvet drapes.

 

Throughout the usual pleasantries however Dany couldn’t help but notice how  _ odd _ her partner was acting. Her fake fiancé kept shifting closer to her, one moment his hand was on her thigh and the next it was holding her own tightly under the table. Normally she would’ve been repulsed by such closeness, even when undercover, but something told her he wasn’t doing it to keep up appearances… and it worried her so she played along. It had nothing to do with the way her stomach fluttered when his fingers interlaced with hers underneath the table…  _ nothing at all. _

 

“And tell us about your lovely wife Daemon, how did you two meet?”

Daenerys tried to stifle a snort demurely but it didn’t escape her partner, who was now quickly reaching first name basis with Tywin Lannister himself.

 

“I think Tyene would  _ love  _ to tell that story,”

He leaned forward with a genial smile, gesturing as if to allow Dany to speak.

 

MOD reared her head defiantly her sharp nails digging into his thigh and taking satisfaction in his cleverly concealed wince,  _ as if _ she needed his fucking permission to speak. But unfortunately the rational part of her chimed in just in time.

 

“Oh goodness, well it is my favorite.”

She giggled churlishly flashing her large diamond wedding ring in Tywin’s direction, the spy in her smirking under the older man’s predatory gaze. She would have him wrapped around her finger and dead as a doornail in no time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Having tired quickly of a conversation where only men were allowed to speak freely, Dany had wandered, assuring MOD that she would slip a polished red pill into the eldest Lannister’s drink soon. Eventually finding herself loitering near the private pleasure rooms and sliding a hand up her dress to retrieve an earpiece from a pocket at her hip. 

 

She meandered through decadently dressed guests and fastened the silver dragon securely around her ear, flicking it on and greeting her tech guru quickly.

“Tyrion I’ve made it to the soirée without any trouble and Tywin doesn’t suspect a thing, I should be out of here in no time.”

 

A gruff sound of amusement reached her ears through the noise followed by a voice she had missed hearing constantly. 

“I’m not surprised MOD, though we were worried about you for a second there. That DW lad still alright?”

 

Dany turned in the crowd her eyes searching for her fiancé smirking to herself as she contemplated her answer. 

 

_ He’s more than alright he’s- _

 

“Dany we need to leave. Now.” 

She whirled in confusion her partners right arm already winding around her waist and steering her towards a private room. Tyrion’s voice sounded crackly in her ear and all of a sudden her line went dead. Something was wrong.

 

“What are you doing?! What the hell Snow!”

She gritted her teeth and whispered furiously at him, attempting a serene smile when she saw Jaime Lannister glance in their direction.

 

_ Wait- _

 

“We have to get out of here now. The missions been compromised, I mean- it was always compromised I just- ugh fuck.”

Her dark haired partner was jamming the flimsy door shut, enclosing them in a cheaply decorated velvet room accented with glaringly red loveseats and old fashioned erotic posters.

 

At the moment however Dany wasn’t particularly bothered by the decor, her heart skipping several beats as she remembered clearly the face of the man she had just seen in the ballroom. No one  _ ever _ survived her dracarys pills, it was impossible to, she’d made absolutely sure of that. Not to mention she had paid the waiter a generous amount of cash to make sure that Martini found its way to Jaime and no one else. Her heart sunk to the bottom of her stomach, embracing utter despair as the realization dawned on her.

 

_ Which means there’s only one way Jaime could have survived. _

 

“So how long were you planning on waiting before you slit my throat? Before or after you kissed me?”

 

Jon stopped searching the hastily constructed makeshift walls for an alternate exit, turning to her slowly and attempting to drain his face of all emotion and failing, the guilt written there as plain as day. 

“I was going to tell you, I would’ve never done it Dany you have to believe me. It’s just there’s not much I can do to-”

 

She snarled in disgust, rushing towards him, her fierce pace impeded by the silver dress’s heavy skirts.

 

“That’s a lie! You may not be man enough to kill me but you would’ve kept me in the dark for the rest of this accursed mission! And then what Snow?! You’d save all the Lannisters from every one of my assassination attempts and I’d never suspect a thing?! How stupid do you think I am?!”

 

MOD was close to having him now, her breath mingling with his in the stupid overperfumed room, she was oh so close… just one small movement and her gun would be out and cocked. 

 

_ One squeeze and a bullet would go right through that pretty head of his. _

 

Jon stared down at her darkly, seemingly unfazed by her outburst and content with watching her take deep breaths. His accented voice coming out much huskier than before when he finally spoke.

 

“You really should work on that temper  _ princess _ .”

 

MOD bared her teeth, snarling and reaching for her gun so fast her hand was a pale blur. It was aimed at his forehead in an instant, the familiarity with wich she gripped it and the press of the silenced nozzle into his pale skin still not enough to deter her husband’s calm expression.

 

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t shoot you right here.”

 

He raised one dark eyebrow, full lips quirking up in amusement at her bold statement. She was supposed to be threatening him! So why did it feel like he was threatening her?

“Well first of all, that would be an all around bad decision in the middle of a party crammed with people. Second of all, I’m not the one who wants you dead.”

 

Dany blinked, his confidence irking her as she relaxed her grip on the gun. He apparently took this as a good sign and continued on, more fervently now then before.

“It’s my boss Stannis. ‘You know Brandon Fury?’ That’s him. He wants the KCI’s top agent dead and that’s not gonna happen on my watch.”

 

MOD drooped, her shoulders slumping as she lowered the gun in disbelief of the abruptly honorable man in front of her, his features holding genuine concern when he registered her astonishment. Her shooting arm hung at her side as Dany looked up at him, his hand reaching out to brush stray hair from her forehead as her brain ran a mile a minute. Why on earth would he want to protect her?

 

“B-but but why?”

He chuckled to himself, seemingly very confident in his decision as his hand drifted down, tracing her collarbone and speaking softly… almost  _ sweetly _ .

 

“Because I realized that she, just like myself, was an emotional wreck of a woman that didn’t deserve to die at all.” 

Dany’s spunk kicked in again at ‘emotional wreck,’ MOD resurging with a roar as she grabbed his collar and pulled him close.

 

His eyes looked darker than usual, but Dany thought nothing of it, her brows drawn in anger as she took a deep breath, preparing to relinquish her control and shout her infuriating, calm, perfect, handsome, frustrating fiancé into the ground where he and his perfect arse belonged. 

 

Instead of a lungful of oxygen however, Daenerys received a soft pair of lips. Sweet and hard and demanding against her own, hands reaching out to tangle in her hair and slide down her waist. She couldn’t breathe and yet she’d never felt more alive.

 

MOD took over too, responding to his rough touches in earnest when he pressed her up against the nearest wall, releasing her and latching onto her neck instead. Dany gasped and moaned, the lewd sounds so loud that she blushed as she heard them but couldn’t stop, her mewling reaching new heights when he slid both calloused hands up her thighs. All she could see now were the curly tips of his hair as he slid to his knees in front of her, hoisting both legs over his broad shoulders as she startled and scrambled for purchase against the cheap walls.

 

“W-what are you do- oh! Oh my gods!”

She panted her legs practically giving out from beneath her as he licked up her thighs, following a trail of moisture that Dany hadn’t realized had slipped down her legs during their argument. When her infuriating partner reached her core however he pulled back her damp panties with a snap, letting the fabric smack her pussy as she gasped in shock. Before KCI’s deadliest assassin could demand he get on with it however he decided underwear was unnecessary, tearing the lace garment from around her hips and tucking the scraps into his suit pocket. 

 

When he caught her staring, he grinned, his eyes almost black as he licked his lips slowly before diving back underneath the grey dress so fast Dany barely had time to scream before his mouth was on her. He drank from her wetness like a man starved, his tongue tracing each crevice like a probe as Dany shook above him, her moans bubbling up louder and louder as he tugged at her clit with his teeth. 

 

_ A wolf in truth. _

 

That was her last coherent thought before Jon started to trace his name along her folds, his fingers finally joining his tongue as he slipped in two at a time. Dany screamed at the sudden  intrusion her squeaks of protest becoming muffled as he stood, one hand still abruptly buried in her cunt as he sealed his lips to hers again. When he pulled away he whispered to her quietly, his fingers still scissoring within her as she moaned. 

“Spread your legs wider Dany.”

 

The KCI assassin did as she was told, nearly drooling as the new angle sent sensation tingling through every pleasurable nerve in her body. Jon seemed to smirk above her, his erection pressing into her stomach as he whispered to her again, his accented voice lower and more dangerous.

 

“It seems the Mother of Dragons can be reasoned with after all…”

She growled at him, attempting to fist her hand in his thick hair before being trapped underneath him, stuck against the wall as The White Wolf shoved a third finger inside of her. Dany practically screeched in surprise, her retort dying in her throat as she rested her head on his shoulder and he started to pump the digits in and out of her, all while whispering nonsensical praise. 

 

“Fuck, seven hells Dany you’re so  _ tight _ .”

 

She merely moaned in his ear, confident that her eyes were now rolling back into her head as he spread her open. It had been a while… MOD constantly used her feminine assets on a mission but she hadn’t let another man inside her since… well since _ Drogo. _

 

But once again her train of depressing thoughts were interrupted by Jon curling his fingers inside of her, the beckoning motion throwing a spray of stars across her line of sight. She held on for dear life her heart clenching along with her cunt when he buried his head in her hair, seemingly enjoying the act as much as she. When his thumb rubbed her clit she whimpered, his lips by her ear as she felt her cunt start to pulse intensely. He was out of breath and his lovely accented voice sounded so wrecked.

 

“Dany,  _ come for me. _ ”

Daenerys gave a scared cry, the waves of pleasure causing flashes of white light to burst before her eyes, her mind overloaded with sated desire as she sighed his name. 

 

“ _ Jon.” _

His fingers froze inside of her, his breath hot against her neck as realization sank into Dany’s bones. She had to restrain herself from whimpering pathetically when he stepped away, his fingers still covered in her arousal as he stared at her incredulously. Jon looked ready to eat her by the time she had rearranged her skirts, cheeks red from the vulgarity of what they’d just done. Not that she hadn’t enjoyed it….

 

But the dark reality of what they’d done was wrapping itself around her still fragile heart, twisting cruelly,  _ this can’t happen. _

 

_ This shouldn’t happen. _

 

_ It won’t happen again. _

 

She promised herself this firmly when she realized quite abruptly that their insatiable desire for one another could only go downhill from here. 

 

But then her partner was licking his fingers slowly, ignoring a dull knocking from the cheap plywood door and shouts of, “You lot have been in there a while! Let us have a go!”

Jon smirked withdrawing the fingers from his mouth and tugging her to him by the waist.

“How did you figure it out princess?”

 

Dany blushed again at the nickname, a part of her vehemently disagreeing with her soft feminine reactions to his banter. 

 

“Because I want to hear you say it again… a lot louder.”

 

Fuck it all to the seven hells.

 

The Mother of Dragons pulled her White Wolf forward by the collar, smashing their lips together as he tried to fight for dominance. His tongue was delightful, tugging and stroking her mouth like it would have her cunt… unfortunately for DW’s top agent however MOD had come out to play.

 

Her teeth pulled at the soft flesh, her tongue plunging down his throat as she grabbed at him, her hands not being able to get enough of his starchy suit fabric. As her hand reached his perfect arse and squeezed however he relinquished the battle, gently entangling his tongue with hers as she bit and writhed.

 

When Jon had finally given up and lost, he pulled away, their foreheads touching as he gulped air and stared straight into her soul. Dany admired MOD’s work, appreciating his bruised and bleeding bottom lip and leaning in to nibble the top one as he groaned. But just as MOD decided she wanted to lean closer for another taste, consequences be damned-

 

BANG!

 

The door to their not-so-private room slammed open, the hinges screeching in protest as Brandon Fury stormed in… in well for lack of a better word, a fury. Tywin stood behind him, a barely disguised shocked look gracing his stern pale features… Dany didn’t quite understand that emotion.

 

_ Why shocked? We are married after all… _

 

However when Dany slipped back into the simpering reserved persona that was Tyene, Jon didn’t miss a beat, putting all pretenses of being ‘Daemon Sand’ aside and ripping his glock from a lined suit pocket moving to put himself in between Daenerys and the two older men. Dany rolled her eyes internally, did no one around here remember that she was the highly trained assassin?

 

As if I need Jon to protect me, I can cover his ass any day. And what a nice ass too, damn…

 

“Stannis I swear to god if you lay a hand on her.”

Now that got her attention. That’s right, Brandon Fury was the alcoholic head honcho at DW. Might explain his overall ‘would rather be caught dead then caught laughing’ look she mused.

 

When the grim man stepped forward however he reached inside his suit pocket, instantly triggering MOD’s alarm bells. In record time, she whipped her silencer from the depths of her ludicrously heavy ball gown, pulling a knife from the seam of her bodice at the same time. Jon looked back at the sound of her movement and gave her a look that screamed

 

_  ‘if these idiots weren’t here I’d kiss you again… harder.’  _

 

Her gaze passed over her partner however, now was not the time to be distracted, there was no way in all the seven hells Stannis or Tywin would be able to catch her alive.

 

But then she caught sight of what he held in his hand. It wasn’t a gun, it was a slender silver remote with a single round red button in its center. And Dany thought it was a detonator.

 

Her training kicked in faithfully, using both arms to shove Jon to the ground as she shielded them and she heard the small metallic ‘click’ of a button being pressed. 

 

When no explosion followed both of the elitely trained spies rose cautiously, eyes trained on Stannis as he started to speak, his tone as grim as his face. 

“I told you to kill her yourself Jon, it’s a shame you have to see this.”

 

Jon frowned his elegant brows furrowing in confusion until Stannis looked straight at her. His coal black eyes burning her… hurting her and-

 

“AAGH!”

 

Daenerys screamed her mind shocked by the pain as her dress turned against her, the heavy fibres that she had once believed expensive were burning up all around her, electricity flowing from them as she jolted once, twice, then three times.

 

She barely heard the screams, her ears ringing and her vision blurring as black splotches blinked in and out. Dany had only just realized the reason for the dress’s added weight when hands grabbed at her arms, rough unkindly hands as she fought weakly against the foreign grip. Her body was lead, a smoking ruin wrapped in smoldering grey fabric as the world spun and the hands pulled. The last thing she heard were his far away shouts.

 

“LET HER GO! STANNIS YOU BASTARD, LET HER GO! DANY WAKE UP!”   
  
“DANY PLEASE WAKE UP!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well??!!! Well?!!! What’ll happen?!
> 
> I know that’s what you’re asking at the moment but only time will tell, I’ll try not to keep everyone waiting for this long again. Also if you couldn’t tell from this chap congratulations and thank you to those who voted last chap! Dany won so she found out first!
> 
> Pretty please leave some feedback below, anything I should work on? Anything you thought was particularly clever? Let me know! Whatever it is I wanna hear it!
> 
> Love <3  
> Lilacs


	6. It Was Just A Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon Snow, while on a mission, runs into an enemy agent who seems strangely familiar and Dany decides to try and trust again... but not before making an important phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my resident super spy addicts! I’m back after a very lengthy hiatus with a hopefully semi-satisfying chapter :)
> 
> I can’t promise a sooner update but I do hope you enjoy this one and I have a feeling things will move faster after this one. (It was a toughie to write). <3 
> 
> Thanks for sticking around and buoying me with confidence to keep me writing!  
> ~ Liles 💜

The Martell family was loaded, their drug cartel was the biggest in Westeros and Stannis had made it clear they were to be avoided at all costs. But Jon was confident he would understand. After all he had tracked his target to one of their villas, what choice did he have but to enter their territory? 

 

Daario Naharis was part of the Crowned Men, a blasé Agent who often fucked up and failed to reach his target. His agency had dropped him down the ranks and that had been the final push for a weasel like him, the only excuse he needed to turn traitor. The only reason DW cared was because he had gotten a hold of precious illegal Lannister bank account records, compiling them on a drive that would mean the lawful end of the rich supposedly benevolent family. It was his mission to retrieve it… but there was something else about Daario that had made him see red… 

 

Jon frowned, the wind buffeting his curls as he perched low on the villa’s stucco roof. Why couldn’t he fucking remember Daario’s physiological profile? He was having trouble remembering the mission report. In fact… he was having trouble remembering a lot of things as of late.

 

In the last week he had forgotten Arya’s favorite automatic rifle on patrol, he had forgotten to pick Ghost up from the kennel, and seven hells no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t remember a wink of what happened the week before that. All he had was Melisandre’s assurance that he’d been in hospital wing’s recovery unit and he’d never gone on a mission.

 

_ Then why do I feel so out of it? _

 

Something was missing but The White Wolf only got flashes, confusing medleys of a silver ball gown and red lips, things that reminded him of the Mother of Dragons. But even that made no sense… he’d failed to kill her at the club… and she had been wearing a red dress there… 

 

_ Right? _

 

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, the cool Mediterranean breeze doing nothing to ease his frustration. Of late that was all he felt… 

 

_ Anger, frustration, and… loss. _

 

Agent 01 growled, throwing his head back and slipping the black mask over his eyes, the synthetic material molding instantly to his furrowed brow. He patted the pack at his waist and shoved the weird empty feeling to the back of his messed up head, leaping off the rooftop in a perfect swan dive.

 

He landed in the cobblestone courtyard perfectly. While his mental state might be completely unstable, years of military spy training it seemed was something that was hard to forget. The black cargo pants and matching turtleneck helped him become a shadow, the tall palms and exotic plants lining the courtyard proving to be good cover and hiding him well. By the time he reached the window he had been searching for however the moon was high in the sky, the black of night intensifying as his watch blinked to twelve o’clock. 

 

Jon eyed the window above him and calculated the distance in less than a second, his padded boots propelling off the trunk of a nearby palm with a soft thud, and his fingers gripping the windowsill a moment later. Using the superior upper body strength years of training regimens had gifted him, Agent 01 hung from the window, peeking inside and quickly analyzing what he saw within.

 

Daario’s lavish guest room. A traitor’s gift for supplying constant useful information. The platform bed was empty however, the man’s hunched form loosely gripping a bottle of dornish wine that sat on a table nearby, his obviously dozing and intoxicated body fast asleep in a brightly patterned armchair. 

 

The White Wolf vaulted into the room easily, the hardwood floor groaning as he landed in a crouch. Shadows obscured most of the furniture and Jon eyed the carved door warily… this would have to be quick. He approached the slumped man confidently, reaching into his pack for the capsule of poison Arya had given him before leaving. Tears of Lys would leave no trace his little sister had reminded him.

 

Once he got close enough that the moonlight lit the man’s face however, Jon realized something was wrong. The once handsome man’s features had slackened, set in a painful grimace and his cheek a bloodied mess… he was dead. Instantly The White Wolf grimaced and leaned closer, his breath smelt of nightshade and one look at his mottled skin was more evidence that poison had been the cause of death.

 

_  But then why the bloodied cheek?  _

 

His eyes narrowed under the mask, his gloved fingertips moving the man’s face and exposing his cheek to the sliver of moonlight. There, clearly carved into his skin was a dragon. Jon leaps backwards as if burned, panic infiltrating his nerves of steel as he crept back to the corpse. His hands reached into the depths of the dead man’s jacket desperately searching for the drive until…  _ ‘click’ _

 

The White Wolf froze, muscles stiffening his hand immediately inched towards the holster where Longclaw resided. But a lilting voice disturbed the tense perfumed air before he could pull his trusty weapon from its sheath.

 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you Jon Snow.” 

 

He  _ knew  _ that voice gods be damned… but where? 

 

Straining his shoddy memory and trying desperately not to look as alarmed as he felt Agent 01 turned slowly, empty hands now slightly raised as he faced a chaise that he hadn’t seen before now. The red velvet lounge chair was draped in shadows and set against the wall, so it was no wonder it and it’s mystery occupant had escaped his notice. 

 

“How do you know my name?”

 

He breathed an internal sigh of relief when his voice came out calm and low, his pulse drumming in his ears as he awaited an answer. 

 

All he got was an incredulous silence. Followed by a shocked laugh which morphed into a raucous giggle, feminine in nature but dark in it’s obvious mocking humor. His brow twitched. 

 

No one laughed at DW’s top assassin. No. One.

 

_ Who the hell- _

 

The figure moved, lifting herself off the chaise with such lithe grace that Jon barely had time to react before a sleek black handgun flashed in the moonlight, the nose of its barrel kissing the forehead of his black mask before he could blink. The moonlight flickered and the woman stepped forward, her features accentuated in the silver light and her ethereal beauty even more pronounced. Her lips were blood red, her hair pulled back in a series of complicated braids as she fixed him with a blue eyed glare. 

 

_ Blue? I thought…. _

 

He winced as the gun dug into his mask, his eyes drinking his fill of her appearance. Unable to look away even while at her mercy. Her black catsuit was zipped to her throat hiding the pale expanse of skin from his eyes while the latex hugged every curve of her sinful figure. For some reason he could imagine how her breath in his ear would sound if he took her up against the nearest wall right this instance.

 

It was the Mother of Dragons, Jon knew that but for some reason a forgotten voice in the back of his conscious urged him to say a different name.

 

_ “Dany?” _

 

The butt of the gun hit his temple hard, stars exploding across his line of sight as he staggered and swayed. Her perfect lips curled into a sneer, scowling at his confused expression.

 

“Don’t call me that. Ever. Again.”

 

He reached for her, every well trained instinct inside of him screaming its disapproval. But he had to touch her… some supressed part of him wanted no,  _ needed _ , to know that she was ok that she was  _ real. _

 

But she flinched, the moonlit vision of her gone and her eyes flashing as she sprung from the floor to the window, hoisting herself up onto the roof before he could make sense of the foggy memories she had caused. Jon vaulted to the window, every instinctual fiber in his body urging him to chase her down.

 

_ She had two dragon tattoos… _

 

He spotted her lithe form sprinting across the tiled roof, sliding and rolling across the tiles, her black latex suit and silver braid glinting in the moonlight. The strange voice in his head was telling him things… things that he shouldn’t know and yet felt certain were true...

 

_ Her eyes are actually purple… _

 

Jon didn’t know where the thoughts were coming from but his consious started to swirl with them the closer he got to catching the KCI Assassin.

 

_ She smells like lavender in the morning… _

 

His heart was pounding out of his chest, his blood running hotter than ever before as he sprang from tile to tile, gaining foot after treacherous foot in her direction. When he spotted a lavish abandoned balcony nearby The White Wolf saw his chance. 

 

He ducked low, prowling the outskirts of the roof as The Mother of Dragons slowed to a stop, her chest heaving as she looked around wildly for her pursuer. Jon winced, his head throbbing as visions clouded his mind… distorted memories that he didn’t remember having… he growled under his breath, his window was closing fast. Jon jumped up from his hiding place, his boots thudding against the roof as he rushed her. Her middle was soft and felt at home in his arms as they tumbled from the roof onto the balcony, his captive’s protests muffled by the loud clinking of the roof’s adobe tiles. When they landed with a thud on the balcony’s carpet-covered floor he felt the breath whoosh out of him, his shoulder and back having taken the brunt of the fall. 

 

As soon as he showed weakness, however, she had him pinned, the ornately carved dagger at his throat as she straddled his thighs and held his right wrist in a tight grasp. For some reason, the notion of a blade at his throat didn’t give Jon cause to pause his left hand’s journey to the Mother of Dragons’ waist, gripping the flesh at her hip with the sensuality of a long term lover. 

 

This seemed to weaken the silver-haired woman’s grasp on the knife, her lips parting and her eyes flashing dangerously as his fingers spread across her back. But she hardened so fast that he could’ve sworn he imagined her softness, the blade at his throat now slicing through his overgrown beard. Suddenly her booted feet were crushing him, her blade closing in and choking off his air supply. And still, his panic instincts would not kick in.

 

_ She won’t hurt me… _

 

Of course, she bloody would! She was a bleeding enemy agent! What the fuck was wrong with him?!

 

His face was pinched and he groaned as visions flashed across his eyes again, worse than before and too brief for him to understand. A glance back up at his assailant, however, found tears tracking their way down the beautiful woman’s face, and Jon couldn’t help but reach for her… the sight of her tears oddly familiar… 

 

And the need to comfort her even more so.

 

She let his hand go… let the pads of his gloved fingers wipe away her tears, her strange blue eyes looking at him with such raw  _ hurt _ that Jon felt as if he was intruding on something meant for another Jon Snow. One that remembered…

 

“Oh, Jon…”

 

The woman,  _ Dany, _ sniffled loudly as her knife began to draw a thin trickle of blood from his throat. The hand he was clutching her cheek with trembling as she leaned into his touch.

 

_ “Why- How could you betray me?” _

 

He frowned, his head instinctively shaking itself no. He would never leave her. Never she was his-  she-

“I-I- I don’t remember…”

 

The woman he was confident now had once let him call her Dany pressed the knife deeper, the pain in her eyes flowing into anger at his raspy words.

 

“Yes, you fucking do you liar.”

 

Jon reached for the dainty wrist that held the knife his fingers grasping her hand, trying to will her to  _ stop  _ to just let him  _ explain _ -

 

“You told me to wear that bloody dress, the one that almost  **killed** me. If Olenna hadn’t risked everything in Monte Carlo I would still be rotting in a DW cell somewhere… and you wouldn’t have given a  **damn** .”

 

His eyes widened, images of Mel’s sinister red lips and Stanis’s smoke obscured profile swimming across his cloudy conscience, no they wouldn’t have… 

 

_ Oh, but they had. _

 

The days that were blank and empty… Arya’s guilty expression as she recounted the events of those missing days… this woman’s obvious hatred of him.

 

“T-They… I think they wiped me I-I- I can’t remember.”

 

This gave the moonlit maiden above him pause, strings of silver hair falling from her tightly woven braid as she stilled the blade’s progress. For a split second, she looked as if she so badly wanted to believe him… but then-

 

“Liar.”

 

Her tight turtleneck clung to her form as she leaned close to him, eyes narrowing as the blade slowly inched forward, the closer it came the harder she seemed to battle with herself. Jon knew she thought there was truth to his words, he knew the distress on his face could not be feigned. 

 

But above all, he knew one thing for sure.

 

_ She won’t hurt me... _

 

“Dany, please.”

 

Tears that had already glazed her eyes again spilled over, her hand dropping the dagger as if she had been burned. The Mother of Dragons got off him quickly and stared at her hands in a daze, the tears still streaming steadily down her face when she looked him in the eye with complete and utter seriousness. 

 

“Who?”

 

Jon sat up, his bun coming undone as he rested his arms on his knees. 

“Stannis… and a sort of high tech mad scientist bitch that he fucks.”

 

“I can’t remember much of the last few days… but I want to know…”

 

He took a steadying breath as her eyes met his, guarded and…  _ the wrong color. _

 

“Were your eyes always that color?”

 

She smiled. A sight that bowled him over and exposed stunning teeth and small dimples. When she caught him staring for too long, her expression shifted to something different, something… darker. And as she met his eyes again she told him everything. In full. 

 

When she had finished Jon was heaving, the memories that he didn’t know he’d been missing returning at such a rapid rate that he had to grasp the balcony’s iron railing for support. Dany was at his side in an instant, her soft sweater covered arms grabbing hold of his head, soft kisses peppering his forehead as a terrible realization hit him like a brick wall.

 

“Gods, Dany what happened? Fucking hells did they hurt you? I swear to the Old Gods I will-”

 

She shushed him pushing his curls to her chest as she rested her head on top of his.

 

“They shut me up in a cell for days, but Olenna wouldn’t have it… Stannis is dead to her now. The KCI’s most elite came and rescued me… killed every DW agent on guard that night. I don’t even know where they kept me, just that it was dark and I was forced to wear that smoldered ruin of a dress for an inumerable amount of days.”

 

DW’s top agent felt his heartache, his guilt swallowing him up at the pain in her voice.

  
“I should’ve been there, I should’ve come for you… gods I’m so sorry Dany.”

 

Her soft lips were at his hairline again at those words, his arms wrapping around her waist as tears started to slip down his scarred cheeks.

 

“Shhh, it is  _ not  _ your fault. They robbed you of your memories, that is the most heinous crime of all Agent Snow.”

 

He breathed in the scent of her deeply, his eyes drying at her comforting words and her even more comforting embrace. His lips curving up slightly as his sluggish brain registered the teasing nickname she had tacked on at the end of her reassuring words. For a while they simply sat there. The two enemy agents, ensconced in the comfort of one another’s arms. The purity of their embrace witnessed only by the bright desert moon.

 

Dany nestled into his neck, her hair tickling his beard and her breath hot against his ear when she next spoke.

 

“The woman who took your memories Jon. Who is she?”

 

He wrinkled his nose at the thought of Mel, one who he had once trusted with his life on the daily had betrayed him without blinking an eye.

 

“Melisandre… I don’t know her last name.”

  
  


The woman before him didn’t hesitate as soon as she had the name, standing and leaving his embrace, instead reaching for her discarded dagger and strapping it to her thigh with unnecessary vehemence. Her face was set and her expression firm as she loaded a fresh cartridge into her beloved black handgun, Jon knew that look, he was an assassin as well after all. 

 

“Dany you won’t be able to kill her, she’s too close to Stannis.”

 

The Mother of Dragons gripped her now loaded gun with confidence and looked over her shoulder at him, tossing the thick braided silver hair to one side as she rolled her eyes.

 

“Watch me.”

 

Jon chuckled but then moved quickly, standing and moving behind her swiftly when he realized she intended to leave the balcony. He secured his arms around her again before she could struggle, on hand dangerously close to her breast as he dropped a kiss on her jawline.

 

“Hold on princess, there’s something of mine that you still have…”

 

He delighted in her slight shiver at the nickname, color flushing her pale complexion as she squirmed half-heartedly in his grasp, intentionally shoving her pillowy arse between his legs in the process.

 

“It’s not yours Jon.”

 

“You’re right. But it’s the key to ruining the Lannister’s forever, cutting off Stannis’s paycheck in the process. That drive is the key to destroying DW forever.”

 

Dany turned to face him fully, meeting his eyes with no small amount of shock across her face.

 

“You’re sure? Jon we don’t know what Stannis will do if you go rogue, there’s no way he won’t hunt you to the ends of the earth-”

 

He grasped her hands in his tightly, cutting her off with a soft kiss. 

 

_ There is no way I’m letting this woman go again. _

 

“Come with me Dany.  _ Please. _ ”

 

Her mouth was agape now, eyes wide as she looked at him for what seemed like eternity.

 

“Jon… where would we even go? What would I tell KCI?”

 

Their foreheads were almost touching now, his voice lowering to a whisper.

 

“I’m done killing for people who I don’t care for, the same people who would kill me the instant I lost my usefulness.”

 

He paused and brought one hand up to her face, her moonlit profile akin to the most beautiful painting he’d ever seen. 

 

“I know a guy… a tech genius of sorts that could release the info on this drive to the public, expose those golden haired bastards for what they are.”

 

She clutched the hand that was caressing her cheek and sighed into his touch, meeting his gaze after a while with a newfound hardened resolve.

 

“I’ll do it with you.”

 

The White Wolf smiled at her, really smiled. And she returned it, though her brow still remained slightly furrowed.

 

“But you must promise me this Jon Snow. This time no secrets, no lies, we work together properly.”

 

He was all too happy to nod his compliance, the only troubled thought in his head concerning Arya, and her safety at DW. But if all went accoring to the plan he just now made up Stannis wouldn’t have any reason to lay a hand on her, besides… she could take care of herself. 

_ Right? _

_  
_ Jon tried not to worry but panic set in… the only thing grounding him was the woman next to him. With her hand squeezing his and easing away some of the worry, that achingly empty part of him felt wholer than it had in years.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

_ Beep! Beep! Beep! _

 

 Missandei cracked one eye open and groaned, the glaring blur of the clock at her bedside telling her quite rudely that it was four am. The bronze skinned woman groaned and sat up in bed, a glance at the ornate mirror opposite her telling Missy she looked like a disgruntled lion. What with the cloud of frizzy curls that formed a halo round her head. 

 

_ Beep! Beep! Beep!  _

 

The incessant beeping echoed through the flat she and her currently absent best friend shared. It was one provided by KCI and nestled within the agency’s headquarters, the safest place for the world’s deadliest female spies. Missy however looked anything but deadly as she shuffled out of bed and down the hall in bright blue fuzzy butterfly slippers. (They had been a gift from Daenerys for her twentieth nakedly.)

 

If it had been the middle of the day she would’ve recognized the beeping’s unique frequency in an instant, but due to the time and her lack of uninterrupted sleep it took Missandei more than a few minutes to realize what she was hearing was not the home phone. It was the burner phone.

 

The phone that hadn’t been used since it’s trial run years ago, when her and Dany had moved in. The phone that was strictly for emergencies only.

 

_ Fuck. _

 

Missy slid down the hall and turned into the small but cozy living room stopping in front of the small framed portrait of her and The Mother of Dragons on New Year’s Eve several years back. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes Missandei took a hair tie from her wrist and held it between her teeth, using both hands to tame her hair into a quick but efficient ponytail. Once the portrait had been carefully removed from where it hung on the powder blue wall a slim silver dial was exposed.

 

The code 04-23-16, the day they’d met. Smiling to herself softly at the thought she unlocked the small safe.

 

_ Gods we are such nerds. _

 

Inside was a silver flip top phone, from which the beeping was emanating as well as a yellow post-it note that had been taped to the back of the small compartment. On it in glittery pink gel pen were written the words,

 

‘Be safe and remember you only live twice!’

 

Their shared love for James Bond movies and classic spy flicks was one of the many things Missy cherished about their friendship, and she was confident both of them could name each one by cover. They were just that weird.

 

_ Gods almighty I hope she’s alright. _

 

When she flipped open the phone she held her breath, waiting for the sound of Dany’s voice before responding just in case this call was a trap of some kind. 

 

“Missy? Are you there? Hello?”

 

The Naathi woman sighed in utter relief and stuttered out her eager reply, English failing her as she responded her.

 

“Daenerys! W-what’s wrong oh kostilus tell me you’re alright!”

 

“I’m fine Missandei I’m fine I-”

 

“Who’s Denaries?”

 

“Jon hold on not now.”

 

A quieter voice had cut her friend off, it’s tenor and concern sparking Missy’s mama bear mode.

 

“Dany who in the hells is  _ Jon _ ?”

 

Her friend stammered and hushed someone ( _ Jon  _ apparently).

 

“It’s Missy it’s complicated I just I’m going away for a while and I need to your help.”

 

She should’ve been annoyed, every part of her moral fiber wanted to tell her best friend to come  _ home _ no guy was more important than her safety. But Missandei knew Daenerys Targaryen, the vulnerability she had heard just now was a rarity, and she couldn’t deny her aid, not now.

 

“You know I’m always here for you. Anything you need.”

 

Her sigh on the other end was audible but Missy’s brows were still drawn together in concern.

 

“But you promise me you’ll be safe? Please tell me  _ Jon  _ is just a helpless civilian you happen to be escorting to safety?”

 

Silence. And then a pained sigh.

 

“He’s- Missy it’s um- you remember the Monaco assignment?” 

 

Missy instinctively clutched the phone a little closer as her friends voice grew hushed.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Umm it’s hidden in that perfume I got there, you know ‘le loupe blanc’?”

 

The KCI agent blinked. The white wolf perfume? What? That didn’t exist and there was nothing hidden in-

 

_ Oh shit. _

 

“What the fuck?! Dany you’re  _ with _ a DW bastard? The one you had to team up with?! The one you said-”

 

“Left me for Stannis I know! Well things escalated really quickly in the last few hours and turns out he was brainwashed and we have somewhat strong feelings for one another and-“

 

The silver haired woman on the other end took a deep and shaky breath.

“I just really need your help my friend.”

Missy walked backwards until her legs hit the couch, sitting down heavily and bringing one of the embroidered pillows into her lap for support. Her head was spinning with all the reasons that this was a terrible idea, empathy for Daenerys battling Missy’s own common sense. 

“What exactly do you need my help with.”

“I’m going rogue.”

Missandei refrained from rolling her eyes.

“Please don’t tell me you’re running away with this stranger, gods Dany think for a minute!”

“I’m not Missandei. Listen to me.”

Registering the controlled anger in her tone, Missy took a softer approach.

“Alright… explain it to me.”

And she did. The KCI agent listened as her best friend walked her through this DW agent’s plan. Or former DW agent according to Daenerys.

“So let me get this straight, you want  _ me  _ to get this man’s  _ sister _ to join KCI secretly and move her here so she’ll be safe from Stannis.”

Her best friend’s voice was honey sweet when she replied.

“Yes exactly!”

Missy on the other hand rubbed at her temples tiredly.

“And you’re confident Olenna will agree to this if I can somehow get this Arya person to join KCI?”

“Of course! She’s a woman under threat why wouldn’t Olenna agree?”

_ Well she has a point there. _

“Alright alright that’s fine I’ll do it but please be safe Daenerys are you sure you can’t come home before all of this?”

She knew the silver haired woman understood the underlying question that went unspoken in her query. 

_ Can you really trust this man you’re with? _

There was a long pause on the other end, soft breathing all she could hear before,

“I’ll find a way to contact you if anything goes sideways.”

Missy sighed, she couldn’t have hoped for a straightforward answer but that definitely wasn’t reassuring.

“I’ll be fine Missy… avy jorrāelan.”

_ That’s better. _

“I love you too.”

The line went dead with a small  _ beep _ and Missy was alone in the dark apartment, going over the carefully curated “plan” Dany had laid out for her. Eventually after she had sketched some outlines and written down key points on a large piece of paper that they kept on the kitchen counter for moments like these Missandei trudged back to bed, hoping to get a few more hours of sleep.

But even when she lay under the soft down comforter and snuggled into her silk pillows, haunting thoughts of Daenerys getting injured or killed were all that consumed her conscious. Only after taking some of Dany’s sleeping pills could she drift into a fitful slumber, her dreams plagued by a pair of distressed purple eyes and cries of pain. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that was enjoyable, no promises but I’m 99% sure smut arrives in the next chap when I can get around to it <3 
> 
> As always your feedback is greatly appreciated and any questions or concerns can be sent to me directly by way of tumblr message! @lilacs-with-lavender
> 
> Translations:  
> \- - - - - - - - - -  
> Avy jorrāelan ~ I love you


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